


(not so) spooky skeletons

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: in light of halloween 2018! (update: dotae, dotae)





	1. content

fair warning that these aren't the best ;; i just wanted to do something for halloween this year! i might do a few more, so [send me some requests](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung)!

 

chapter 1

content

 

chapter 2

[noren - college!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38593262)

 

chapter 3

[johnil - demon!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38593292)

 

chapter 4

[dotae - hp!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38593319)

 

chapter 5

[yujae - vampire!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38593364)

 

chapter 6

[markhyuck - college!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38600066)

 

chapter 7

[johnil - canon!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38601884)

 

chapter 8

[xuxikun - life!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38604266)

 

chapter 9

[johnil - hp!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38606117)

 

chapter 10

[chensung - vampire!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38650136#workskin)

 

chapter 11

[noren - canon!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38721950)

 

chapter 12

[jaewoo - canon!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38724842)

 

chapter 13

[renmin - fantasy!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38742497/)

 

chapter 14

[johnjae - college!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38790779/)

 

chapter 15

[dotae - life!au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38797955)

 

chapter 16

[dotae - parents!au ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479284/chapters/38797976)

 

 

 


	2. noren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun/jeno - college!au  
> 1469w

When Jeno suggested to spend Halloween at a theme park specifically filled with haunted houses and terrifying performers, Renjun said _Okay._ because it was Halloween, and it was Jeno, and it was going to be a _date._

That, Renjun was fine with.

He was fine running through a badly lit theme park at ten at night, pushing through sweaty bodies and sticky hands, and paying way too much for a bottle of water, because it was _Jeno_.

Cute and smart and funny (to Renjun) Jeno, who he’d been dating (in secret) for the past month-and-a-half (a long time). It was new and scary and something they wanted to keep to themselves for a while. And even though Jeno liked to assume otherwise, Renjun’s _sure_ he’s pretty much smitten over Jeno.

Hell, if Jeno’d asked Renjun to run out to McDonalds for a cheeseburger and fries, Renjun _would_ go. (But Jeno would never ask that of Renjun, because Jeno’s also nice and sweet and caring and more likely the one who’d run out to McDonalds for Renjun, if he’s being completely honest.)

Though, when Donghyuck said, “Why don’t we all go together?”

Renjun has never wanted to take his words back more.

But he can’t, because Jeno said _Okay_. to spending the evening with nearly twelve others from their courses, all of whom are unaware of Renjun and Jeno, or that there would even _be_ anything remotely close to a Renjun _and_ Jeno.

And that’s really how Renjun finds himself standing in the middle of a street filled with cast performers dressed in tattered, bloodied clothes, running at him with fake machetes and chainsaws that are terrifyingly believable. Renjun dodges a group of girls being chased by a cast member dressed as Michael Myers, shrieking their heads off as he follows them down the street.

“Jun.”

Renjun’s neck nearly snaps at the sound of Jeno’s voice, honey under the yells and screams of terror surrounding them. He has a turkey leg in his hand, and a bottle of water in his other, both of which having probably cost a fortune.

“You should eat something,” Jeno says lowly, taking Renjun carefully by the elbow. He brings Renjun off the street and towards a fake streetlight that’s been bent in the middle, “You haven’t had dinner.”

Renjun loses himself to the sound of Jeno’s voice ( _whipped_ ), “I had some of Jaem’s popcorn earlier.”

Jeno gives him a look of disapproval, “That’s hardly dinner.”

“And this is?” Renjun counters, looking pointedly at the enormous turkey leg in Jeno’s hand. “It probably cost as much as a regular dinner, that’s for sure.”

“It’s a theme park,” Jeno reminds him, handing Renjun the bottle and motioning for him to take a sip. “Everything here’s expensive – drink up, you haven’t had water either.”

Renjun takes the water and a large mouthful to try and calm his thundering heart at the thought of _He’s been watching me_. Puppy love, or whatever Jaemin likes to call it, is really claiming most of Renjun’s heart and mind these days.

“I…”

His brain stutters. Jeno stares at him, confused, but all Renjun can think about is how positively _sure_ he is that Jeno is actually glowing under this shitty street lamp. Dark hair pushed back, pale skin almost star-bright against his black, sleeveless shirt with a tiny pumpkin iron-on patch over the pocket.

Renjun feels his tongue grow dry when Jeno prompts him to continue, leaning forward with his stupidly god-like face and his stupidly kissable lips.

“You should have some too,” Renjun says hurriedly, swapping the turkey leg for the water. He starts, wanting to tell Jeno that he appreciates the food and water and care and kindness, “And I just – ”

Then, someone comes bounding up to Jeno, Renjun can’t really make out who, what with all the face paint on, and Jeno’s being dragged away in the next second, taking the water with him. He manages to squeak out a quick _I’ll be right back!_ before he’s yanked into the massive crowd, blending in easily.

 

x

 

By the time Jeno returns to Renjun’s side, they’d already gotten through two haunted houses and a street performance, all three of which they’d experienced apart.

Renjun’d survived them by clinging onto Jaemin’s date, a freshman that towered them all. He was on the other side of Jaemin’s death glares by the end of the second house, having yanked Jaemin’s poor date through the house with him. So, when Donghyuck proposes they go straight towards the clown house, Renjun taps out, scouring for one of the shops on Main Street to hide out in.

“Ooh, plushies,” he hears Dejun yell, running by him for a beeline towards the floor-to-ceiling display. Renjun watches as his coursemate fawns over rows of rows, thinking of maybe getting a small plushie as a gift for Jaemin. (And maybe it’d act as an apology for having stolen his date all night.)

Renjun sighs, toying with the keychains hung on the stands, allowing himself to sink further and wallow in self-pity. He knows that it’s best they still kept their relationship under wraps, it being so new to the both of them, but sometimes he wished he could just have Jeno for himself, as selfish and ridiculous as it sounds.

“ – jun? He’s right over there,” he hears Dejun say, and Renjun glances up, heart stammering when he sees who Dejun’s speaking to.

“Thanks,” Jeno says, jogging over quickly, a bright smile on his face and still with the bottle of water in his hands. It’s almost empty and the label’s been peeled off. “Hey.”

“Er,” Renjun swallows thickly. Jeno’s staring at him again. Renjun feels his cheek grow hot and his ears burn, but he attributes it to the time he’s just spent running from killer clowns and man-eating zombies. “Hello.”

“Where’d you go?” Jeno glances around. Realising that there aren’t any of their friends around, Jeno takes his hands from the keychain rack, tangling their fingers together. “Hyuck said you wanted to leave?”

Renjun eats the rock in his throat, “No, I just – didn’t want to go for the clown house.” His eyes dart to where Dejun’s still hugging plushies, “Dejun didn’t want to either, so we were just going to wait out here.”

“But – ” Jeno runs his hand through his hair, “That’s the whole point of tonight – the houses.”

Renjun frowns, “Not for all houses. Dejun doesn’t like clowns.”

Jeno studies him, “ _You_ don’t like clowns.”

“Just go already,” Renjun says, trying to shake Jeno off. He didn’t want to hold Jeno back from having fun with everyone else, “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“You’re my – ” Renjun’s heart beats a steady tattoo against his ribs, and Jeno whispers, “You’re my boyfriend… Was it because I left earlier?” When Renjun freezes up, he adds, “I’m sorry, Jihoon – he dragged me away, but we can go together this time, and you can hold my hand – if you’re afraid.”

“Jeno – ” At this point, Renjun doesn’t even know why he’s refusing this. “You don’t – ”

“Okay,” Jeno shrugs, stepping in close. Renjun loses his breath, “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

“Just – ”

“I want to stay with you,” Jeno insists, growing obviously anxious at Renjun’s hostility. “I don’t care where we are, I just want to hang out with you. This was – ” Renjun tries not to get too entranced by the way Jeno licks his lips, “This was supposed to be a date.”

“It _is_ a date,” Renjun tells him, not caring that he was sulking over this a mere ten minutes ago. “It’s a secret date.”

The corners of Jeno’s lips turn up into a wry smile, “So – you’re not mad?”

“Not anymore,” Renjun says honestly. He watches Dejun wander into the next section of the shop, and steps closer to Jeno, “I was just sulking.”

“I can tell when you’re sulking,” Jeno hums, exuding smugness. “You get all mad on your own and your lower lip juts out, and you look at me like I’ve killed your pet hamster.”

“I do not!” Renjun coughs. “I just – ”

“Can I kiss you?”

Renjun goes a little light-headed, and his first reaction’s to go _What?_ but he sees the way Jeno’s smiling down at him (eyes sparkly, lips pretty, all that good stuff),

In a soft voice, “I said you didn’t have to ask – every time you wanted to.”

“I know,” Jeno says, grinning madly at Renjun’s bewildered look. “I just like it when you get all flustered like that.”

“ _Lee Jeno –_ ”

Jeno kisses him, and in that moment, Renjun couldn’t care less if anyone were to catch them like this, because god, would Renjun go through tens of haunted houses if it meant Jeno were by his side.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	3. johnil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taeil/youngho - demon!au  
> 1858w

“So, what do you guys _do_ on Halloween?”

Youngho rolls his head against the couch’s armrest to look at Taeil with a perfectly arched brow, “What?”

Taeil turns from where he’s making himself a cup of hot chocolate, and he stuns for a moment, blinking at the sight before him – Youngho with his devilish two-inch horns out for the world to see, long legs draped across the two seater. He takes a moment to thank the angels that his apartment’s on the higher floors, above and far from the eyes of curious pedestrians.

“I mean,” Taeil starts, shuffling across with his mug warming his hands. He juts his chin towards the television, “I don’t think any other demon would spend Halloween hogging their boyfriends’ Netflix account just to rewatch all nine seasons of _How I Met Your Mother_.”

Youngho makes a face, “I’m really only watching the first six seasons.”

Taeil sits on a green ottoman by the coffee table, “I mean, don’t you have parties at the Institute? Or – ”

“Why’re you sitting all the way over there?”

“ – don’t you guys go out and harass bad people?”

“‘Harass’?” Youngho mocks a look of disgust, “Moon Taeil, we’ve been dating for a year now and you _still_ think I go around the city harassing people? Really?”

“I saw you trip a grown man _five_ times in a row yesterday.”

“He kicked a squirrel!”

Taeil nods in agreement, “You’re definitely a hero.”

Youngho juts his lower lip out petulantly, untucking one of his arms from where he had it under his cheek to reach for Taeil. He beckons Taeil closer with a silent plea, and Taeil goes, unable to resist Youngho.

“There aren’t any holidays in my world, Moon,” Youngho hums, not at all sadly, more as-a-matter-of-factly. He magics his bowl of popcorn away to make more space for Taeil, allowing him to squeeze them both on the creaky white couch, despite the existence of a perfectly good bed just ten feet away. “There’s no such thing as Halloween when every day is Halloween.”

Taeil suddenly finds it incredibly important that he kisses Youngho, so he does. Youngho snaps the episode to a pause, and Taeil can’t find it in him to be offended that it even mattered. He pulls away before Youngho’s hand can snake up his shirt, pressing his nose into the crook of Youngho’s neck.

“Not even Christmas?” The tip of Youngho’s horn feels rough under Taeil’s thumb, the ridges of it addictive to touch. “Or Easter?”

Youngho exhales softly, shifting to lie flat on his back so that Taeil can sink into him. He curls an arm around Taeil’s waist, a thumb sneaking under the hem of Taeil’s cotton shirt, “The Council doesn’t quite observe mortal holidays.”

“Then – do you have demon holidays?”

Another sigh, “There aren’t just demons, you know?” Taeil inhales deeply, waiting for Youngho to go on, “There’re birthdays and anniversaries, but there aren’t holidays, no.”

“Oh.”

Youngho laughs, deep and low, and Taeil feels it shake through him, “You’re pretty slow when it comes to these things, aren’t you?”

“Well,” Taeil bristles, pinching Youngho’s horn in retaliation. “You never want to talk about the Otherworld, I don’t know anything about that part of you or about – ”

“I’m a demon that works for the Institute. A good demon, if you may.”

“I know _that_ ,” Taeil huffs. He lets his hand fall to toy with the dark strands of Youngho’s hair, softer now that Taeil’s introduced him to the concept of hair conditioners (which are not a thing of the Otherworld, apparently). “Like – you say you’re twenty-three.”

Youngho stifles a laugh, “I _am_ twenty-three.”

Taeil tugs lightly, “Yes, but how long have you _been_ twenty-three?”

“Twenty-three years, Moon.” Youngho adds, “That’s how long twenty-three year olds have been around for.” He locks Taeil down in a hug when the older boy threatens to pull away, “I’ve told you, I’m not immortal and I pretty much have the same shelf life as a mere human.”

“Then – ” Taeil’s voice is muffled from where Youngho is holding him down, “Don’t I ever get to visit where you live? We’re always at my place, and – ” he pauses, hesitant knowing Youngho hated it whenever he asked to visit, “I want to see your room. And where you eat and sleep and spend most of your life at.”

Youngho speaks into Taeil’s hair, “You’ve seen my room.”

“In a weird dream,” Taeil sulks.

It was a long time ago and Youngho’d brought Taeil into one of his dreams, which didn’t end all too well because Taeil’d been forced awake, dream traveling far too exhausting on his body. Youngho’d gotten mad at himself and stayed apart for a week until Taeil showed up at the Institute himself, at a loss with no other way of contacting Youngho.

“You can’t get past the enchantments,” Youngho deflects.

“Doyoung told me you could lift them for me,” Taeil answers, already having asked one of Youngho’s colleagues the last time they had the blessed chance to run into one another. (Read: Taeil camped outside Doyoung’s apartment for forty-five minutes and a cup off hot coffee that’d long gone cold.)

Youngho purses his lips, “You trust Kim Doyoung and not me?”

“Kim Doyoung is the head of the Institute’s security division,” Taeil deadpans. “Yes, I trust him.” Youngho grumbles about something under his breath about _dumb mortals_ and _can’t believe I love an idiot_ that Taeil chooses to ignore, “You never tell me anything, Youngho… Are you really never going to tell me about the Otherworld?”

Youngho is silent, and Taeil wishes he could see Youngho’s face, but he doesn’t need to to know that it’s twisted in consternation and internal conflict. They’ve had this conversation twice before, and neither of them ended well, having led to a heated argument that Taeil would like to avoid this time.

“I will,” Youngho says eventually. “One day.”

Taeil hooks his ankle where Youngho’s knee is bent, “You can tell me today?”

“Moon,” Youngho breathes, and Taeil knows it’s a _not today_ just from the tone of it. “You know I can’t.”

Taeil anchors himself onto Youngho’s ratty shirt, “Before, you said you couldn’t tell me because things were still new between us… That was six months ago.” He listens to Youngho’s heart beat, “And I get it, but isn’t it different now?”

“Why do you have to know?” Youngho asks, in a way so reluctant that makes Taeil’s heart lurch.

“Because – ” He struggles to find words that won’t hurt them both, “It’s like there’s this other side of you that I don’t get to know, or see, or _have._ I don’t know anything about you outside of us, and I – ” Taeil closes his eyes, knowing how poignant it is, “I love you. I want to know everything.”

Youngho doesn’t breathe, and Taeil taps him on the chest twice to remind him to come back to the conversation. Softly, he starts, “It’s not because I don’t want to tell you.”

“But?”

“I can’t,” Youngho releases Taeil a little to card his fingers through Taeil’s hair. “The Council doesn’t think too highly of us going around speaking of the Otherworld to just any mortal. There are – concerns, so to say.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Taeil insists, realizing how stupidly childish he sounds. “I mean – even if we – ” a pause “ – _you know_ – I wouldn’t… go around talking about the Otherworld. You know I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Youngho mumbles, almost apologetic. “But they don’t know that,” he reasons. “It’s not because I don’t want to… It’s for your safety too.”

Taeil pushes himself off Youngho to level his gaze with Youngho’s concerned look, “My safety?”

Youngho reaches up to trace the pad of his thumb over the high of Taeil’s cheek, “It’s not just people like Doyoung and I out in the Otherworld, Moon. There are bad people too – with bad magic and bad intentions, you know?” He must’ve sensed the panic surging through Taeil, because Youngho’s sitting up in the next moment, hands on Taeil’s shoulders, “Taeil?”

_There are others?_

Taeil frantically thinks back to all the times Youngho’d been called out for fieldwork, to the times he’d found scratches and scars on Youngho’s arms and legs and torso, to the times he’d seen Youngho tense and magicking Taeil’s apartment.

Of course he’d known there were _others_ , but – his safety?

Taeil snaps back into his body when Youngho calls his name again, brows furrowing together tightly. His dark eyes color worry, as if Taeil were going to go running in a different direction.

“Taeil?”

“You – ” Taeil takes Youngho’s hands in his, heart panging at the scar across the back of his left, a new one he hadn’t noticed. He knows they spar at the Institute, but this didn’t look like it were from practice. “You’re safe, right?”

Youngho’s lips part, and he takes a breath as if to start on a spiel, but he stops, blinking at Taeil’s words. He manages, “What?”

“You,” Taeil repeats, shaking Youngho lightly. How is he so calm about this? “If you’re – with me? You’re safe? You’re not – breaking any Otherworld laws? You’re not unprotected staying outside of the Institute? You’re not in danger, are you?”

Youngho so very easily melts in his hands, shoulders relaxing, “You’re worried about me?”

Taeil balks, “ _Yes_?” His mind whirls, “I know you said you’re some sort of law enforcer for the Otherworlds, but you never said it wasn’t _safe_. I thought you – just went around having donuts and getting cats out of trees, you know – like regular police officers do.” Taeil stares at Youngho, “You never said anything about – you never – ”

“Hey, hey,” Youngho is quick to pull Taeil into a soul crushing hug. He maneuvers them to have his back against the armrest, holding Taeil dear, “I’m safe, and so are you, okay? There’s nothing to worry about – I promise, alright?”

Taeil wrenches Youngho’s shirt, annoyed and filled with unprecedented worry, “ _When_ will you let me in? Where am I going to go if I can’t find you one day? Am I just supposed to wait for you to show up at my door? Or do I go down to the Institute on my own and – ”

“Moon.” Taeil simmers, hating the way Youngho’s holding onto him so tight, as if he’d be gone in the next second. “I’ll bring you to the Institute one day, okay? I’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll know everyone, and they’ll know you. They’ll know who you are to me, and how important you are to me. I promise, I’ll bring you one day, and you can even stay for a couple of days in my room – that is, if you don’t get creeped out by the haunted hallways.”

Taeil freezes, “It’s _haunted_?”

“Just by ghosts.”

“Youngho – ”

“You’ll be safe!” Youngho laughs, loud and boisterous in the silent apartment. He says again, so tenderly that Taeil’s the one who melts, “You _are_ safe. With me.”

Taeil doesn’t doubt that the slightest, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Moon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	4. dotae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doyoung/taeyong - harry potter!au  
> 1838w

“Act – natural.”

Doyoung watches as Taeyong’s expression twists into one filled with disdain, slender fingers toying with the little umbrella in his drink. He plucks it out of the glass and leaves it on the table, “I _am_ acting natural.”

Doyoung places the paper umbrella on a napkin, drying it off. “If this really is you acting natural, you’re really terrible at it.”

“Says you,” Taeyong takes a large gulp of the pink-orange drink. Raspberry-orange-something-with-alcohol, Doyoung can’t remember. He looks at Doyoung, eyes narrowing, “What are you – are those _fake_ fangs?”

Doyoung runs his tongue over the bumpy plastic, “Youngho and I got a matching pair at the dollar store.” Taeyong continues to glares at him, “What? The invitation said to come in costume, and I wasn’t about to charm real ones on just for tonight.” Doyoung smooths the front of his royal blue Auror robes, “Plus, they go great with my robes. Very vampire-y, Youngho says.”

Taeyong takes another swig from his drink, little drops dotting his upper lip. Doyoung wipes it clean with a wandless spell, and Taeyong grimaces even more. “You and I both know that’s not what vampires look like.”

“I know that,” Doyoung tries not to sound too harsh. Taeyong’s been in a bad mood all evening, Merlin knows _why_ , and Doyoung doesn’t want to set anything off, not when they’d promised Youngho to stay for the entirety of Taeil’s gig (eight songs, an hour-long set). “Youngho and I almost got matching capes too, but I figured that might be over doing it.”

Taeyong crosses his arms and rests them on the table, his own simple, black robes a contrast to the white marble top. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, inching Taeyong’s drink away, “And you wonder why we never invite you to any of these parties.”

Taeyong glances up sharply, eyes shining with something Doyoung can’t seem to pick apart. He’s looking away again before Doyoung can ask about it, resting his chin atop his folded arms,

“I hate Halloween.”

On the contrary, Doyoung quite fancied Halloween. He liked that he could walk down the street in his robes (he did _pay_ for them, what a waste to be hiding them under illusion charms), could have his wand in his hand (and no one would bother to look because it’s just a costume to them anyway), could live the day in his own skin, and not as if he’s a fugitive hiding a slew of secrets (in this case, the secret is merely one enormous secret that is the existence of magic).

Taeyong usually enjoyed Halloween too; dressing up with cat ears or fake wings, charming the house to be all spooky (no matter how much Doyoung begs him not to, because as much as he didn’t mind the fake spider webs and blood splatter stickers on the windows, having a plastic skeleton hanging from the ceiling in the middle of their hallway is just not all that great for his frail heart). He liked baking Halloween themed treats, trying out orange glaze or recreating bright green cauldron cakes, even though their kitchen would almost always end up covered in gunk. He liked filling a fishbowl filled with Muggle candy, sitting excitedly on the couch waiting for their doorbell to chime, bounding towards the door with the brightest grin on his face when it does.

_Usually_ , that is.

Doyoung hasn’t clue what’s got Taeyong all wound up today.

“Ease up,” Doyoung says, reaching over to tuck an invisible strand of hair behind Taeyong’s ear. Taeyong blushes almost instantly, but he doesn’t inch away. “We’re here to support Taeil.”

Moon Taeil, aspiring singer in the evenings, dutiful accountant during the day, and currently Youngho’s newest prey. Doyoung can’t quite recall how Youngho’s managed to find the Muggle and convince the older boy to agree to a date, but it’s been a short three months now, and everything seems to be going just fine. (Other than the fact that Taeil has no clue of the Wizarding World).

“When is Youngho going to tell him?” Taeyong grumbles, kicking against the table leg grumpily. He buries his nose into the crook of his elbow, inhaling deeply, “He can’t keep lying to Taeil about this. It’s practically our entire lives.”

Doyoung traces the shell of Taeyong’s ear, confused at the hostility. “Youngho says he’s got it under control, so he’s got in under control.”

Taeyong is unsatisfied at that answer, brushing Doyoung’s hand away dismissively. Doyoung lets his hand drop to the table, and he stares at his sour peanut of boyfriend, who refuses to make any sort of contact with Doyoung.

Under his breath, Taeyong mutters, “You would know.”

It’s said so lowly, far under the layer of indiscernible chatter around them, that Doyoung would’ve missed it if he weren’t paying so much attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Taeyong leans away, fixating his eyes on the soggy coaster before him. Again, a mutter, “Nothing.”

Doyoung stomps out the flame in his stomach that’s started to flicker, peeved at Taeyong’s petulance. He inches closer instead, as if having their faces just breaths apart would help him read Taeyong’s face. Taeyong squirms under his scrutiny, but he holds out for longer than Doyoung’d expected, lips in a firm line, eyes downcast to where he’s gripping tight on his wand.

Doyoung takes Taeyong’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together with more effort than usually necessary, pressing his palm to Taeyong’s. Perturbed at the lack of response, Doyoung casts a mild Hot-Air charm between them, sure to have the smell of their robes intertwine and waft around the cocoon he’s created.

Taeyong breathes deeply, his shoulders relaxing almost immediately.

“Right,” Doyoung hums, bringing Taeyong’s hand up to his lips. He flips it around to press a soft kiss to the center of Taeyong’s palm, grinning as his boyfriend shivers at the intimacy of the action, pupils dilating even under the dim light. “Are you just going to ignore me now? After picking a fight?”

Without words, Taeyong tugs his hand away from Doyoung’s lips, tangling their fingers together again. He moves to rest his head on Doyoung’s arm, cheek against the velvet blue. Doyoung sighs, knowing how Taeyong can get sometimes, wanting to be coddled. As much as he liked to pretend that he didn’t, Doyoung knows Taeyong best, and he especially knows that something’s got to be up for Taeyong to be this moody.

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Doyoung casts another mild Hot-Air charm, coaxing Taeyong out of the shell he’s built himself. He murmurs under this breath, and Doyoung squeezes their hands, a silent request to have Taeyong repeat himself.

Taeyong exhales loudly, turning his face into Doyoung’s chest, hiding his face away. “I just miss you.”

Doyoung stares at Taeyong’s crown, a little surprised, but not so much confused.

He _has_ been working a lot more lately, now that he’s been promoted within the ministry. The new job had him partnered with Youngho, going out on a minimum of three cases a day, clearing up mishaps, visiting sites that required Auror work, dealing with criminals threatening to overtake the Muggle government (really, just day-to-day things). Paperwork came in piles taller than Doyoung was, and it’s not unusual for both him and Youngho to stay the night in their office, surrounded by half-eaten takeout boxes and an unacceptable of cakes and pastries.

The little jabs Taeyong’s been taking at Youngho all evening – _ah_.

“I’m happy you’re happy at your new job,” Taeyong exhales, grip on Doyoung tightening. “And I know better than to say you haven’t been around, because I _know_ you have,” he’s angled towards Doyoung, just a mere minute away from climbing onto Doyoung’s lap. “I just miss you, and it’s been ages since we’ve had any time to spend together, and we have to spend it in a Muggle bar with tens of other people…”

Doyoung kisses the top of Taeyong’s head, curling his free arm around Taeyong’s shoulder. He pulls Taeyong closer, not caring that it might be considered inappropriate, how tangled they are in such a public setting, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t – ” Taeyong releases his wand in favor of hugging onto Doyoung’s arm. Doyoung _accio_ s Taeyong’s wand into this robe pocket before any unsuspecting Muggle could pick it up and wave it around as if it were made of plastic. “It’s nothing – I’m sorry, I just want to go home.”

Something swells in Doyoung’s heart, “You’re so sweet, you know?”

Taeyong scoffs, still tucking himself in Doyoung’s arms, “Because I’m grumpy and whiny and unreasonable?”

“Well there’s that,” Doyoung agrees, laughing when Taeyong makes an indignant noise. “I love you anyway.” Taeyong sniffles noisily, and Doyoung can’t help but want to go home now too. Just thinking about holding Taeyong like this, snuggled under their multitude of blankets, legs over legs, hands over waists, lips over lips. “I’ll ask for some days off work next week, and maybe we can go for a day trip some place close by?”

Taeyong untangles himself from Doyoung, gaze softening when he sees Doyoung smiling down at him, “What?”

“I haven’t miss a day of work ever since Auror training,” Doyoung shrugs. He bites back the urge to kiss Taeyong sweet, “I’m sure I’m allowed _some_ days off. I’ll go to Auror Kim Monday morning and see if I can work some things out.”

“But your job – ” Taeyong words don’t match the way he’s clinging tight onto Doyoung.

For a second, Doyoung feels a pang of guilt. Had he really been spending that much time at work? When was the last time he’d had dinner with Taeyong? The last time he’d seen Taeyong in the morning without bounding out of the house in a rush? The last time he’d gotten home without Taeyong already asleep on the couch, neck at an odd angle, obviously having tried staying up to wait?

A long time, Doyoung finalizes.

“Youngho can cover for me,” Doyoung assures. He indulges and kisses Taeyong, grinning madly when Taeyong grabs him by the cheeks to hold him in place, smiling now too. When Taeyong finally awards him the chance to breathe, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Taeyong mumbles. His cheeks tint pink, “I know I’m being stupid about this, I just – ”

“I’ve missed you too,” Doyoung interjects, watching with glee as Taeyong’s smile widens comically, colored with a tinge of relief. “I don’t think we can go home now, but – ”

“That’s okay,” Taeyong rushes to say, mood lifting heaps. Doyoung feels an odd rush of power, reveling in the part he plays in Taeyong’s life, a part that no one else could rival. He ducks his head back down, holding Doyoung close, “I love you.”

The lights dim and a familiar head of tomato red graces the stage, but before the band starts to play, Doyoung cradles Taeyong near and whispers into his fluffy brown hair,

“I love you too.”

 


	5. yujae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaehyun/yuta - vampire!au  
> 1506w

Jaehyun scrunches his nose in disgust as he sidesteps through the crowded room, the smell of sweat mixed vomit and alcohol so pungent that he stops breathing entirely, growing irate by the second. Bodies are slicked hot against his skin, and Jaehyun bites down the urge to run home for a cold shower, hating the feeling of mere humans against his skin.

He wonders how Yuta’d ever tolerated him.

Then, Jaehyun catches it.

Just the slightest of sweets that makes Jaehyun want to click his tongue. A flavor that sends chills to his ears and down his back, and when he breathes in – it takes a form, filling Jaehyun like peach tea in a glass of ice, closing the cracks and spaces with its sweetness, like honey, thick and pure.

Pulsing. Lightly, but there.

Jaehyun’s feet move quickly, but not too quickly (he didn’t want to get into trouble for shifting around mortals), and he follows the scent until his eyes zero in on the head of lilac hair. Relief is first, then annoyance next, realizing belatedly that the scent he knows all of is mixed with the scent of four others.

He doesn’t need to go any closer, he knows Yuta will sense he’s near. Jaehyun waits three heartbeats (or what he remembers to be three heartbeats), and, true enough, Yuta is looking up from his conversation, eyes alert, scanning the crowd. Jaehyun stands his ground, and their gazes meet eventually – Yuta’s elation to Jaehyun’s comparable agitation.

“You made it!”

Jaehyun has his breath knocked out of him (the one he wasn’t holding) when Yuta slams right into him, throwing his arms over Jaehyun’s shoulders and pulling him down to press a kiss to Jaehyun’s neck. The action itself as Jaehyun exhaling, shivering at the press of cold lips to his neck.

He blames it to when Yuta _did_ drink from him – the blood surging through his wrist or thigh, wherever Yuta said would be safe, Jaehyun gave the greenlight. He’d watch Yuta feed on him until he’d get lightheaded, tapping Yuta thrice on the shoulder for him to stop. With Jaehyun’s blood coursing through him, Yuta would tackle him down again, high and greedy for more of Jaehyun – in other ways than one.

“I thought you said you were busy?” Yuta beams, taking Jaehyun by the cheeks. His eyes flash gold for a brief moment, losing a grip on his façade with just Jaehyun’s presence, “I didn’t save you any of those pumpkin donut puffs you like so much.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jaehyun mumbles, a little strained from having gone through slew of senses. He inhales deeply, taking Yuta in to clear the ones fogging up his mind, “I’m okay.”

“You’re not hungry?” Yuta repeats. He presses his fingers to the inside of Jaehyun’s wrist, “Have you – ” his voice drops, “ – _fed_?”

Jaehyun nods quickly, “Taeyong gave me some of his stash from his hunt with Doyoung the night before.”

“Did he now?” Yuta grimaces, “I drank a _sip_ from Taeyong’s tumbler this morning and Doyoung threw his shoe at me.”

“They like me more,” Jaehyun says smugly, enjoying the way Yuta pinches his cheek, then caresses him softly to sooth the twinge. “I wanted to – talk to you about that, actually.”

Yuta blinks, not quite understanding the seriousness of Jaehyun’s tone. He leads them to the kitchen anyway, empty and significantly quieter than the raging part in the living room. Yuta hops onto the kitchen counter and motions for Jaehyun to step between his legs. He drapes his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, toying with the short hairs there,

“What did you want to talk about?”

Jaehyun chews on the inside of his cheek, but the relative warmth of Yuta’s torso pressed against his gives him the courage to ask, “Are you going to drink their blood?”

Immediately, Yuta’s eyes dart above Jaehyun’s head towards the door, then back down. He lets go of the demeanor immediately, eyes a solid gold, “What are you talking about?”

“The people you’re – ” Jaehyun struggles to find the words, “associating with.”

Yuta stares at him, “You mean my friends?”

“Your _human_ friends,” Jaehyun says, not quite sure where he’s going with this anymore. He slips his hands past Yuta’s leather jacket, resting them over Yuta’s denim-clad hips, “Are you ever going to feed from them?”

“No,” the answer is immediate. Yuta hooks his legs around Jaehyun’s hips to bring him close, “I’m not. We’re not _allowed_ to.”

“But you did,” Jaehyun hates how idiotic he sounds. “You broke the rules with me, right?”

“I did,” Yuta pulls on his hair gently. “What are you asking, Jae?”

“I mean – ”

Someone stumbles into the kitchen and Yuta moves to latch his lips to Jaehyun’s neck again. He sucks and kisses and licks, but never punctures, never moves to sink his teeth into Jaehyun like he used to. His blood (or what’s left of it) surges to where Yuta’s lips are, begging, _begging_ for him to break the skin.

The stranger leaves and Yuta pulls away, panting heavily.

“You still smell intoxicating,” Yuta hums, as if Jaehyun’s thoughts had been left on the counter bare. “Even after feeding this morning, I still – you still drive me crazy.”

Jaehyun bites on his lip, and Yuta’s eyes follow the motion, “You can still drink from me, can’t you?”

“I can.” Yuta thinks it over, “but I don’t have to anymore.”

“But you can if you want to?” Jaehyun goes on to explain, at Yuta’s worried frown, “I just – don’t want you drinking from other people that way, because I – ” he averts his eyes, shying from Yuta’s gaze, “ – know how you get. When you drink. From me.”

The silence stings Jaehyun’s skin.  

“I know I sound like I’m crazy, and we’re going to be together a _long_ time, but – ”

“Jaehyun,” Yuta’s voice is levelled. He takes Jaehyun by the cheeks again, and Jaehyun allows for it, reluctantly staring into Yuta’s bright eyes, “You have nothing to worry about – I’ve never felt any different drinking from humans or deer or cattle until I met you.”

Jaehyun doesn’t follow, so Yuta goes on,

“What you and I have – that’s a _blood_ bond.” He stifles a laugh, and Jaehyun ignores the urge to run away, “It’s not something I feel with just anything I drink from.”

“A blood bond?” Jaehyun echoes.

“You haven’t drank from me yet,” Yuta tells him. “You don’t know how strong it is – what we have between us.” He kisses Jaehyun’s nose, unbearably sweet, “Didn’t you read that book I gave you? It’s really informative, you know?”

“I want to try,” Jaehyun says resolutely. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he wanted to know how it feels when Yuta took from him. “I – I want to.”

Yuta is quick to say _no_ , “You’re not ready for it yet, babe, it’s very different from drinking off animals and unbonded blood.”

“Just a little?” Jaehyun asks, suddenly desperately itching to know how it felt – what goes through Yuta’s mind when he has his lips to Jaehyun’s thigh, what lets him find the will to _stop_ drinking from Jaehyun, what pushes him to pin Jaehyun down and ride him until their both out of it. “Please?”

Yuta says nothing.

Instead he kisses Jaehyun sweetly, licking against Jaehyun’s lips until they open up for him. Jaehyun thinks it a ploy to get have him change his mind, but then he feels Yuta pull away. Dazed, Jaehyun cracks an eye open enough to see Yuta harshly biting down on his own lip, pricking the skin for a drop of blood.

Immediately the smell is overpowering. Jaehyun rushes forward to lick it away, moving purely out of instinct. He trembles madly at the taste of Yuta, and his body thrums with energy, as if it’s thanking Jaehyun for the fuel. Unsteady on his feet, Jaehyun falls against Yuta, shaking from how _good_ it feels to have Yuta’s blood in him, no matter how small the droplet.

“Are you okay?” Yuta murmurs, after having stroked Jaehyun’s hair for a solid ten minutes. “Do you want to leave?”

“I want – ” Jaehyun pulls away to eye Yuta’s lips greedily, “Can I have – more?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yuta asks, in favor of answering Jaehyun.

“Yes,” he answers, swaying close to Yuta like a moth to a flame.

“Okay, then let’s get out of here.”

Jaehyun finds enough in his sanity to ask, “But what about your – ”

“It’s fine,” Yuta hops off the kitchen counter. He kisses Jaehyun, but breaks away before Jaehyun can bite him on impulse, “If you’re going to drink from me, I’d rather we do it in – less of a public setting.”

Jaehyun hasn’t a better idea, “Okay.”

He takes Yuta’s hand and they shift back to the house, Yuta on the bed the moment they cross the threshold. Jaehyun breathes a breath he doesn’t need to take, then sinks his teeth into the high of Yuta’s thigh.

_Honey._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! ;;


	6. markhyuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck/minhyung - college!au  
> 1385w

“The first house on the right looks pretty scary,” Jeno says, studying the park map in his hands. He points towards the attraction entrance, the bottle in his hand near flying into Renjun’s face, having not noticed the shorter boy hovering on his right. Renjun shrieks, and stumbles back into Jaemin’s date, who catches him with a yell.

Donghyuck takes the chance over the commotion to steer Minhyung away from their crowd of friends, hand on Minhyung’s elbow, “Hey.”

Pale, and a little queasy, Minhyung mumbles, “Hey.”

“Are you doing okay?” Donghyuck asks, concern doubling when Minhyung flinches at the sound of a cast performer screaming five feet away. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m okay,” Minhyung shakes his head, and Donghyuck’s hand off. He folds his arms across his chest, hugging himself tightly, “I’m fine.”

Donghyuck sighs, “I knew coming here was a bad idea, I – ”

“I’m fine,” Minhyung insists, positively shivering. Donghyuck stomps the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that it’d just make Minhyung feel even worse. “I’m fine.”

In retrospect, Donghyuck _did_ know Minhyung was afraid of haunted houses and fake blood and terrifying make-up. He knew on some level that Minhyung hid away from horror movies and anything remotely chilling, scared of anything and everything spooky, creepy, or ghostly. He didn’t think Minhyung would say _Yes_ to following the bunch of them out to the amusement park for their Halloween special, and Donghyuck didn’t at all think that Minhyung would be _this_ adamant about pretending to be brave.

It doesn’t make things easier that Minhyung hated being told that he was terrible in doing something – in this case, making through haunted houses alive. Being the classic overachiever, Minhyung didn’t like to hear things like _I don’t think you’ll make it_ , and Donghyuck knows this well.

“Are you sure?” Donghyuck asks again, hating the way Minhyung tries to cower into himself, shoulders near up to his ears. He touches the green light-up devil horns headband Minhyung has on, a match to the pink one Donghyuck has, “We can sit the houses out if you don’t want to go in?”

“I’m not scared,” Minhyung grinds out, words far different from how his eyes are far too over-bright. Harshly, “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Donghyuck shrugs, “Fine.”

As much as he loved his boyfriend, if Minhyung didn’t want to admit to being afraid, there honestly isn’t much he can do to help. Offering a hand might set Minhyung off more, and coaxing the truth out of him isn’t going to be easy with _this_ many people around. Minhyung didn’t like it whenever Donghyuck got too affectionate either, so his hands are tied, really.

Donghyuck knows Minhyung will come back to him eventually, so they go, wordlessly.

The line to the first house is expectedly long. Donghyuck stands at the front of their little group, making conversation with Renjun about the décor around them, plucking them off the walls to admire the intricate details in the textiles used. They make their way through the line fairly quickly, hearts thumping harder the closer they get to the entrance.

“Jun.” Donghyuck hears Jeno call, emerging from where he’d been talking to the others, reaching for Renjun’s hand, smiling nervously. Renjun rolls his eyes, but laces their fingers together, holding Jeno by his side.

Donghyuck feels a little – hollow, for a second. His eyes dart around the group of them, throat closing up when he figures that everyone’s got someone to hang on to later on. _Which is fine_ , Donghyuck thinks, stepping forward in line. He’s not all that scared anyway, not when his mind thinks of the effort and ways into creating the scene and setting, rather than of someone running at him with a saw while dressed in a ghoul’s outfit.

It’s hard dating Minhyung sometimes. Not that their relationship’s any secret to the people around them. He just doesn’t know if he’s doing _too_ much when it comes to Minhyung. Is he just saying he doesn’t want to be held? Or does he really _not_ want to be held? Or be taken care of?

Donghyuck closes his eyes and tries to will the thought away. It’s supposed to be a fun night, not a night spent thinking about whether or not Minhyung truly appreciated the worry and concern Donghyuck holds for him, be it going through a haunted house or piling too many shifts at his two temp jobs. He knows Minhyung hated worrying other people (“Especially you, Hyuck!”), but isn’t that what a boyfriend is for? Did he really expect Donghyuck to stand around and do nothing while he’s off shaking with fear having trouble placing one foot before the other?

He looks up just as they’re to step into the final waiting room before the entrance to the quite literal hallowed halls, blood-curdling screams growing louder and louder with every inch forward. Indulging into his desires, Donghyuck turns to find Minhyung where he knows the other boy is, lurking by the back of the group, bright green devil’s horns a lighthouse to Donghyuck’s eyes.

Minhyung’s already staring at him, lower lip trapped between his teeth, the epitome of worry and nerves all bundled into one scared boy. He still has his arms around himself, and he blinks at Donghyuck, sending a look laden with meaning that Donghyuck can’t help but squeeze past their group of friends to plant himself by Minhyung’s side.

He holds a hand out with his palms faced upward, and Minhyung takes it without hesitation, sweaty against Donghyuck’s cool. Donghyuck ignores the mischievous grin Jaemin sends him when Minhyung shifts to hide his face in Donghyuck’s shoulder, recoiling from a particularly shrill shriek.

They stand like that for a while, walking in step with Minhyung hanging off Donghyuck’s arm.

“Sorry,” is what Donghyuck hears, muffled into the sleeve of his shirt.

Donghyuck reaches with his free hand to run his fingers through Minhyung’s hair, damp from sweat (not that Donghyuck cared in the slightest). He lets go of Minhyung’s hand in favor of snaking a hand around Minhyung’s waist, pulling him close, “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean – ” Minhyung shakes his head, holding on to the hem of Donghyuck’s shirt, “Sorry.”

“I don’t care that you’re scared, Min,” Donghyuck sighs. He kisses Minhyung’s crown softly, “You know I don’t care.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I just – didn’t want to have you bother with me, and ruin the experience.”

“You’re a big dumbo,” Donghyuck chastises. The entrance to the house looms around the corner, and Minhyung shivers again, “Do you want to leave?”

“I – ”

“I don’t care if we don’t make it through the house,” Donghyuck says first. “I’m not going to let you go through with this just for me, especially if you don’t want to.”

“I’m okay,” Minhyung nods. He straightens, and Donghyuck winces at how surely _green_ Minhyung looks, “You’re here, I’m fine.”

Donghyuck stares at him, “It’s all fake, okay? Remember that – nothing’s real in there.”

“I know,” Minhyung gives another unconvincing nod.  

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

“Please?”

Donghyuck takes Minhyung’s hand, pulling him down for a quick kiss to the lips. For courage, or something, “I’ll go first, so just hold onto me, alright? And if you don’t want to, we don’t have to go to the next house.”

“Hyuck – ”

“I love you, dumbo,” Donghyuck sighs, speaking quickly as they near the entrance. A cast member dressed in chains and splattered in fake blood stands by the doorway, revving the chainsaw in his hands, “I’m _here_ for you. Could you depend on me just this one time?”

Minhyung steals another kiss, “I do depend on you. I depend on you all the time.”

Donghyuck gives him a small smile, a fuzzy feeling filling his lungs, “Good.”

“Love you,” Minhyung says hurriedly, immediately hiding behind Donghyuck the moment they turn the last corner. Jeno shrieks the moment he steps through the doorway, and Donghyuck spots Renjun being yanked forward. “If I die tonight, I love you.”

Donghyuck snorts, waving casually to the cast member that tries to scare him. Minhyung’s fingers dig tight into his shoulders, jumping a foot in the air and yelling at the flash of light that hits them,

“I’ll be doing the saving tonight, my Prince Charming.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


	7. johnil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taeil/youngho - canon!au  
> 1184w

“Why don’t we go as a couple this year?”

Taeil looks up from where he’s looking through the new set of lyrics Taeyong’s written for their next demo. He’s seated on the floor of Youngho’s room, notes spread out around him, “What?”

Youngho shrugs, turning to lie with his back flat on his bed. He rests a foot atop the bunny plush he’d gotten at a broadcast a couple of days ago, “Like what you did last year.”

“I’m not dressing up as a girl again,” Taeil says simply, focusing his attention back on Taeyong’s chicken-scrawled handwriting, trying to deciphers the circles from squares. “That wig was really horrible to have on throughout the dinner, and I couldn’t even take it off because of cap underneath.”

“Jungwoo’s going as Rose, from the Titanic,” Youngho informs him. “And Jaehyun’s going as Jack.”

Taeil hums, “That’s nice.”

He doesn’t notice the lull between them until Youngho clears his throat, “You went as Belle last year.”

“I know,” Taeil stars a line from the second verse. _Really good_ , he writes, as a reminder for when he has to meet Taeyong later to record the demo. His stomach growls hungrily, but he ignores it for now, “I lived it, remember?”

“And Sicheng went as your prince.”

Alarms go off in Taeil’s mind. His pen hovers in the air for a second, but he doesn’t turn to look at Youngho, because he knows he shouldn’t react. Reacting would only edge Youngho closer to the dark hole that he’d then created, filled with unnecessary thoughts and ideas that fueled the envy in his heart.

“He didn’t go as _my_ prince,” Taeil corrects. He circles another phrase on the sheet of paper, and marks it with, _Not suitable for broadcast_ , “He went as the prince from _Beauty and the Beast_.”

“Semantics,” Youngho grumbles, kicking the bunny plush in the face. Taeil looks over his shoulder, never not amused by the number of toys Youngho has on his bed. He grabs a toy bear and shoves it under his neck, “You went as a couple.”

Taeil sighs, leaning against the bed frame, “Are we really going to argue over this again?”

“No,” Youngho reaches for a yet another plushie, holding it to him. He glances at Taeil for a brief second, “No.”

Taeil breathes, and waits.

It takes less than a second for Youngho to be speaking again, “I’m just _saying_ – ” Taeil unclicks the pen and rolls it to the ground, “ _We_ could have gone as Belle and her prince! _I_ could’ve been your prince.”

“This is getting really old, Youngho,” Taeil says, shifting to rest his chin on his arm along the length of Youngho’s bed, “Sicheng didn’t even go as the prince, he went as the Beast! Fur! Ears!”

Youngho rolls on his right, frowning down at Taeil, “I could’ve done that.” He adds, like a child, “I’m taller too.”

“What’s height got to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Youngho’s brows furrow, lines on his forehead deepening. Taeil scoots forward to smooth them out with his index finger. Exhaling, Youngho continues, “I still don’t see why you didn’t ask me to be your prince.”

“Stop phrasing it like that,” Taeil tuts. He combs through Youngho’s hair with his fingers, “Sicheng didn’t have any ideas, and Yuta was going to go as that kid from Death Note, so I told him he could pair up with me.”

“But – ”

“ _And_ ,” Taeil pulls tugs on Youngho’s hair lightly. “Didn’t you promise Chenle and Donghyuck that you’d go as Willy Wonka?”

Youngho takes Taeil’s hand from his hair and leads him up onto the bed, maneuvering him to lie over Youngho. He tosses the plush across the room, and it lands somewhere near Taeyong’s desk, “That was after I found out you were pairing up with Sicheng!”

Taeil groans, inching upwards and sinking down Youngho’s left, squeezing himself between Youngho and the wall, “This isn’t a big deal, Youngho – does it really matter?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Youngho answers, no hesitation. It did matter, a year ago, and Youngho’d sulked himself to a state of no return, ignoring Taeil’s questions of _What’s gotten into you?_ and _Youngho, can you talk to me?_ “Let’s go as a couple this year.”

Taeil rests his head on Youngho’s pillow, where he’s an inch higher, looking down at Youngho’s glum expression, “It’s just a costume.”

“Please?” Youngho pouts, “I just – want to.”

“I don’t know,” Taeil sighs. He caresses Youngho’s cheek, loving the way it fits in his hand, “Going as a princess again…”

“You don’t have to go as a princess,” Youngho is quick to say. “We could go as milk and cookies!”

Taeil glares at him, “I’m not going to the party as a _cookie_.”

Youngho shrugs, “I could be the cookie.”

“Why do you want to go as a couple so bad?” Taeil asks. He thumbs Youngho’s bottom lip, “We’re _actually_ dating, you know that, right? We don’t need Halloween to be a couple.”

“I just want to go as your prince,” Youngho sulks. He turns his head to kiss the inside of Taeil’s palm, “Sicheng got to do it, why can’t I?”

“Sicheng is my roommate,” Taeil deadpans. “He’s a good friend, and he’s a cute boy, but he’s not – ”

“Did you just call him _cute_?”

“ – he’s not my _boyfriend_.” Taeil pinches Youngho, “You’re my boyfriend. No matter how unnecessarily jealous you get.”

Youngho grumbles incoherently under his breath, then, “Wouldn’t hurt for you to show it once in a while.”

Taeil takes the challenge, pushing Youngho down onto the bed and kissing him languidly. Youngho kisses back, hands flying to Taeil’s waist like magnets. He indulges Youngho, kissing him hotly, pulling away the moment Youngho pushes his hips towards Taeil.

“Don’t be like this,” Taeil sighs, pleading. “I love you.”

Youngho makes a disgruntled noise, “I love you too.”

“You’re my prince, okay?” Taeil cringes inwardly at the words that tumble from his lips. Though, he knows how much Youngho likes to hear things like these, “Mine.”

With eyes wide and bright, “And you’re mine.”

Taeil flops back against the bed, allowing for Youngho’s hand to skirt under his shirt, tracing shapes onto his tummy, “Besides, I think I might be going as a mailman this year.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t know,” Taeil closes his eyes, loving how Youngho’s touch sends shivers down his arms and legs. “It’ll make people think, keeps people on their toes.”

Youngho kisses him, then laughs, “That’s weird.”

Taeil scoffs, “You know what’s weird? Being jealous of someone dressed in fur.”

“That’s wasn’t the point,” Youngho argues, finger skating higher. Taeil suppresses a shudder, “And that was a good costume, okay? I’d go as the Beast. Your Beast, specifically.”

“I’d like to see you do just that,” Taeil tests. He pulls Youngho closer, taking a kiss before saying, “The most ridiculous costume you can go in, fur and ears.”

Youngho gives him a winningly smile, “I know just the costume.”

Taeil doubts him, “Bet me.”

“Fine. I bet a hundred kisses.”

 _Easy_ ,

“I’ll gladly take that bet, my _prince_.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


	8. xuxikun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kun/xuxi - life!au  
> 1986w

The cereal bowl in Kun’s hands nearly falls to the kitchen tiles when Xuxi shoves yet another terrifying Halloween costume in his face, “What about this one!”

“I just – ” Kun rights himself with a sigh, licking clean the milk that’d spilt onto his thumb. “I said to please not do that, didn’t I?”

Xuxi’s grin could be apologetic, if Kun squinted, “I know, but _this_ one’s really good!”

“Just like the five other costumes you’d found?” Kun says, turning on his heel and heading towards the living room. He hears Xuxi chase after him, long limbs and heavy feet stomping around, “The party is tonight, baobei, there’s no time for me to change my costume.”

“But – ” Xuxi twirls Kun around, and Kun lifts the bowl high, careful not to have any more spilt. The cereal sloshes around, and thankfully, everything remains in the bowl, “I’m going as Jason, like – mask and everything! You can’t go as – a _fairy_.”

“This isn’t a college party we’re going to, you know?” Kun says, elbowing Xuxi out of the way as he makes his way to the couch. He sits with a sigh, “There’re going to be children there, and I don’t want them crying because I’ve got fake blood and open wounds all over my body.”

Kun’s colleagues were holding a child-friendly Halloween party and even with the incessant nagging he’s been pushing onto Xuxi, the boy _still_ insists on turning up as one of the scariest killers in modern cinema. He’d even tried explaining that there were going to be three-year-olds running around, not that it’d dampened Xuxi’s spirits in the slightest.

“I really like my job,” Kun reminds him. “I don’t want my friends all hating me on Monday morning when your costume scares their kids to no return.”

“It’s not _that_ scary!” Xuxi argues, jumping onto the couch. Kun nearly drops the bowl again, and he gives up, moving to rest it on the coffee table. Clearly, it’s impossible to eat when Xuxi’s around, “I promise – you could go as Freddy!”

Kun balks, “Freddy _Krueger_? The killer that targets children in their sleep? _That_ Freddy?”

Xuxi blinks, “They don’t know that!”

“Their parents will!” Kun shakes his head, taking Xuxi’s phone and locking it, leaving to rest it by his bowl of cereal. “Do you have any idea what Doyoung is going to do to me if I show up as Freddy Krueger? I’m going to scar his three-year-old and he’s going to spike my food on Monday.”

“You don’t have to go all the way,” Xuxi mumbles, deflating with every one of Kun’s rejections. He’d _really_ wanted to go as something scary, and it was their first Halloween together, he wanted to match too. “Just the hat.”

“Then I’d just be that one guy in a fedora,” Kun says flatly. He takes Xuxi’s hands in his, a peace offering, “I already have my wings and Taeyong’s lent me his glitter body lotion I promised I’d use. You can go as Jason, and I’ll go as a fairy, it’s fine, Xi.”

“But – ” Xuxi shakes Kun off, moving to rest his head in Kun’s lap instead, legs hanging off the couch. “What is everyone else going as then?”

Kun thinks back to their discussion over lunch on Friday, “Well, Doyoung and Taeyong haven’t the time to put much together so they’ve just got rabbit and cat ears and clip-on tails to match.”

Xuxi sulks, “I want to match too.”

“I’ve got an extra pair of fake wings,” Kun says, hoping it’s helpful. He’d ordered the wings off Ebay and they’d come in a multipack with crowns and wands too. “I think you could fit them with just a white shirt and a pair of jeans.”

“What about Taeil?”

“I don’t think he’s dressing up,” Kun hums. “He’s probably too busy dealing with Taesun and Taejin’s outfits, and he’s got to decorate the house too… But I know Youngho’s dressing up.”

Xuxi’s eyes light up. He’d always liked Youngho, Taeil’s six-foot husband with the kindest smile. They’d hit it off really well during Kun’s last office party, and Kun refused to entertain Doyoung’s theory of how it’s because both Xuxi and Youngho have the same level of humor as a pair of five-year-olds do.

“What as?”

Kun smiles apologetically, “Tony. The tiger from Frosted Flakes. The cereal.”

Xuxi exhales loudly, turning to curl himself against Kun, “He was my only hope.”

“Aw, come on,” Kun stifles a laugh. Youngho really did look like someone who’d do Halloween to the nines. At least he used to, according to Taeil, but he’s toned down a lot more now that they’ve got their pair of twins on their hands. “He’s got the costume rented and everything – it’s going to be a great party, Xi.”

“I’m going to be the only scary one there,” Xuxi grumbles. He takes one of Kun’s hands and guides it to his hair, a wordless request for Kun to play with it. “Is this what old people do?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Kun tugs tightly on Xuxi’s hair, making the boy squirm. He soothes it with a small kiss, “I’m not that much older than you, y’know?”

“Yes, but – ” Xuxi hides his face in Kun’s torso, “Minhyung and Donghyuck are going to their college party as the Joker and Harley Quinn. Jeno and Renjun are going as the parents from the Addams family, and Jaemin is going as Pikachu with that new boyfriend of his going as Ash.” He complains, “They’re going to Chenle’s place because his parents are out of town, and they made me chip in for alcohol even though I said I couldn’t go! Even pre-game drinks, and you know it takes forever – _forever!_ to get both Jaemin and Donghyuck wasted! And I won’t even be there to witness it!” Xuxi rolls his eyes, “Something about being there in spirit or whatever, like I’ve _died_ , honestly.”

Kun’s hand stops from where he’s stroking Xuxi, a soft bubble of irritation growing in him. He didn’t get annoyed often, and he’s never gotten mad over such a small thing, but _this_ – the difference between them is one that Kun can’t quite grab hold of. He’s graduated from college for two years now, and Xuxi’s still in his third year, of course there’d be differences in the circles they ran in.

Of course, Xuxi would still be in the phase of party hopping, getting drunk during the weekends and slogging to class on Monday morning, while Kun worked a nine-to-five job and would rather spend his weekends in bed. Of course, Xuxi’s friends are all about going the distance with their outfits, but Kun’s friends are too busy with _raising_ children to bother about that, just wanting a small get together and maybe some light drinking. Of course, Xuxi should still have the chance to hang out with his friends if he wanted to, he didn’t _have_ to accompany Kun to his boring child-friendly party.

They’ve had this argument countless of times, but sometimes Xuxi isn’t aware of how the things he says sets off a thousand bulbs in Kun’s mind.

Xuxi doesn’t seem to notice, shaking his head to have Kun continue toying with his hair.

But he doesn’t. He nudges Xuxi off instead, averting his eyes when the taller boy twists around to stare at him, “What?”

“Nothing,” Kun says, far too quickly. He regrets it, because Xuxi straightens immediately, eyes widening at the sinking atmosphere, “It’s nothing.”

“No,” he stops Kun from reaching for his cereal. “What is it? Tell me.”

“I said it’s nothing,” Kun tries for his breakfast again, but Xuxi refuses to let him. He allows for Xuxi to cup his cheek, coaxing him to look Xuxi in the eye. “Nothing.”

Xuxi’s search his eyes, his face, then he looks down to his lap, and Kun can see the cogs in Xuxi’s mind working hard to retrace their conversation, thinking of what it could be that would set Kun off like this.

It takes not too long, but by the time Xuxi does get it, Kun’s heart is already filled with thoughts he doesn’t want to hear.

“That’s not what I meant,” Xuxi says, lowly, tenderly. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come with me,” Kun says anyway, hating how sensitive he got whenever it came to his boyfriend, his _younger_ boyfriend. Something new in Kun’s books.

He hadn’t dated much, and he definitely hadn’t dated anyone _younger_ before Xuxi came along. Even with the millions of internet articles telling him that three years – five years, even – isn’t that big of an age gap, Kun is living the relationship, and he _knows_ it’s a big gap.

He pulls away from Xuxi’s hands, but Xuxi holds on to his shoulder, keeping him from going too far. Kun barrels on, “You’d have a lot more fun with your friends, and you know they don’t like hanging around with me because I’m – boring and old, and – ”

“Stop.” Xuxi inches closer until his legs are over Kun’s lap, his chest to Kun’s shoulder, “That’s not true. Jun and Chenle love hanging out with you, you know that.”

“I – ”

“I didn’t mean – ” Xuxi pauses, looking for the words, “Whatever you thought I meant, I didn’t mean. I was just – whining, about costumes, there’s nothing more to it. I swear.” Kun lets Xuxi lace their fingers together, “I _want_ to go with you. I want to visit the twins and Jinyoung.” Xuxi adds, in an effort to lighten the mood, “Even though Doyoung says I can’t play with him anymore because of what happened the last time, which, by the way, was not my fault – I mean, I didn’t know four-year-olds weren’t allowed to watch _Jaws_. It’s like a classic!”

Kun can’t find it in him to laugh, “It’s okay, Xi, you don’t have to – ”

“I want to,” Xuxi insists, almost pleadingly. “I want to.”

“I’m being serious here,” Kun says, looking at Xuxi firmly. He ignores how his heart thuds at Xuxi’s guilty eyes. He knows how much Xuxi hated it when he played this card between them, pushing Xuxi away and locking him out just because his fears were creeping up. Kun tries to show his sincerity, “I understand.”

“Don’t,” Xuxi breathes. His eyes dart down to Kun’s lips, and he takes them with his own not a second later, trying to kiss the argument away. Xuxi whispers, “Don’t. Not because of something like this. It’s not – I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know.” Kun kisses him again. He peels Xuxi’s fingers off from where they were curled tightly in his shirt to hold on to Xuxi’s hand. “I’m telling you it’s okay if you don’t want to go with me, I won’t – be mad. I won’t get angry or – or think things I shouldn’t think of.”

“Please – ”

“No, I promise,” Kun lifts three fingers in a mock salute. “It’s fine if we don’t spend the weekend together.”

“I want to,” Xuxi says, with finality. “I’m going with you, okay? And I’m going to go as a fairy _because_ – ” he kisses Kun to stop him from interrupting, “Because I want to, and I want to match with you, alright, I _want_ to.”

Kun sighs, knowing it’s best not to argue with Xuxi when he’s made up his mind like that, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Xuxi promises, lifting up his pinky finger. Kun takes it with his own, and they shake on it, sealing it with a kiss. “Besides, if I go as a fairy then I get to use some of that fancy body glitter you have.”

“It’s just lotion, baobei.”

“Yeah,” Xuxi shrugs, mischief coloring his grin, “ _You_ can help me put it on.”

Kun kicks Xuxi off the couch and reaches for his cereal, ignoring his boyfriend’s faux cries of injustice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't help but include the angst, because this (age gap) is my favorite trope for xuxikun and i haven't yet the chance to write it ;; 
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


	9. johnil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> youngho/taeil - hp!au  
> 1647w

“I’m sorry – ” the paper crackles, “ – I – late – home – tonight! The – pretty bad – and lightening! Everything’s – closed!”

Youngho vanishes the speaking envelope with a wave of his wand, not wanting to hear the sound of Taeil’s voice all wound up and broken. He paces their living room, worry gnawing in his gut as his mind cooks up a hundred different scenarios that could’ve happened to Taeil, who’d promised to come home during the Halloween festivities.

Being a young professor at Hogwarts, Taeil’d been busy with the new school term, which meant most of his nights were spent at the castle, if he were too tired to Floo home. With the one day of break that Halloween’s awarded, Youngho’d tried to convince Taeil into letting him fly down to the castle instead, what with so much free time in his hands now that Professional Quidditch League’s season is over. Taeil, however, was adamant about coming home, refusing to spend any of their time together in the castle, where _privacy_ didn’t come by so easily.

Youngho couldn’t at all argue with that, and reluctantly agreed to have his tiny boyfriend cross the distance between them instead.

Though, with another strike of lightening and clap of thunder, Youngho’s regretting that decision whole-heartedly.

The Floo network’s down because of a bunch of ghouls trying to break into the ministry as a Halloween prank, and Taeil’s resorted to taking the Hogwarts Express back to Central Station, then flying the remainder of the journey. He would be a lot less worried if he didn’t know how rubbish Taeil was with a broom. Sure, Taeil could fly, but he wasn’t all that great at it, if Youngho was being honest.

“Moon Taeil,” Youngho groans, closing his eyes to will the negatives away. He debates calling Taeyong for help, but he knows the boy’s pretty much buried with work at the ministry. More than that, if Doyoung ever found out that Youngho was stressing Taeyong out even more – Youngho isn’t sure how terribly he’ll be hexed, but it’s a definite that he _will_ be.

He magics the television on, needing some sort of distraction to get his mind off the fact that his boyfriend is literally fighting his way home through one of the worst storms Youngho’s ever seen in his life. Hands itching for something to do, he starts on dinner, even though he isn’t sure if Taeil’d make it home, or if he’d take the Hogwarts Express to return to the castle instead.

The fridge is stocked with food from the grocers, and Youngho’s nerves flicker, irritated and distressed. He snubs them all, reaching for the ingredients to some warm beef stew, thinking that it’s what Taeil would want after a long fly in the rain. Slowly, he prepares the meat and chops up the vegetables, trying to tune his attention to the episode of _Suits_ playing on the television.

It’s taking every cell in Youngho’s body not to grab his own Siberian Arrow and bolting towards the skies to search for Taeil.

With everything in a sturdy steel pot, Youngho moves to clear the dishes by hand, needing the motion to keep him from conceding to having a major freak-out like his mind’s telling him to have. He’s done with the dishes and about to move onto the utensils when the door to their apartment flies open, forcing him to jump a foot in the air.

A loud groan.

_Taeil._

Nevertheless, Youngho accios for his wand first, prepared for more. He rushes forward when he does see Taeil hunched over the opened door, broomstick flickering under a faulty Disillusionment Charm. Immediately, Youngho casts the charm off the broomstick and sends it into the closet, moving forward to haul Taeil up by the arms.

“Taeil, _Taeil_.”

The boy looks fine, sans the pale complexion and rain-soaked body. There were no cuts or gashes, which meant that he managed to fly without getting noticed by any other wizard from the ministry, who’d first instruction would be to take them _down._ Protocol, the ministry would reason, harming a fellow wizard in order to maintain the blanket of secrecy that is magic.

“ – dy, I got – from – ” Taeil slurs, fingers digging tight into Youngho’s arms, trying to keep himself up.

Youngho spells the door close and Taeil’s bag to the kitchen table. He picks Taeil up, one arm under Taeil’s knees and the other around Taeil’s shoulders, carrying him towards their bathroom.

“Taeil, are you okay?” Youngho asks, the moment he sets Taeil down on the edge of the bathtub. He spells Taeil dry, and casts a Hot-Air charm, watching nervously as Taeil inhales deeply, relieved at the lack of water-logged robs weighing him down. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes,” Taeil sighs, slouching forward. Youngho moves to hold him steady, “Home.”

Youngho spells Taeil’s robes off, sending them straight towards the laundry room. Taeil makes a small noise of disapproval, but he doesn’t bother fighting it when Youngho accios for a clean pair of Taeil’s boxers.

“Thanks,” Taeil mumbles, after Youngho’s helped him into them. Youngho accios for one of his own shirts, far too large for Taeil’s narrow frame, but far comfier.

“Okay?” Youngho takes a step back, never once not appreciating how Taeil looked in his Muggle clothes, drowning in the white cotton. He casts another Hot-Air charm, and Taeil nods appreciatively, holding his arms out for Youngho to step in to. With everything settled, Youngho allows himself to relax, burying his nose in Taeil’s hair and breathing him in, “I was so worried.”

“Sorry,” Taeil mumbles, speaking into Youngho’s chest. “I should’ve written a better letter, but it was so hectic at the station, random security checks and everything – I thought it’d be better for me to leave the platform as quickly as I could.”

“Love you,” Youngho needs to say. “I love you.”

Taeil squirms in his hold, “Nothing was going to happen, I was fine. I _am_ fine.”

“I know,” Youngho sighs. He bites a tuft of Taeil’s hair, releasing it when Taeil shakes him off. “I was just worried you were going to get hurt, and I didn’t know if you were going to – take the train back to the castle instead.”

Taeil pulls away enough to look Youngho in the eyes, “I said I would come back, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but – ” Youngho tightens his hold on Taeil. “It would’ve been safer if you went back to the castle.”

Softly, “But I missed you.”

Youngho kisses Taeil, pouring his emotions into it and hoping Taeil would understand – that he’d rather go a night than the rest of his night without Taeil. He vanishes his wand to the bedside table when Taeil hooks a leg around his hips, trying to close the lack of space between them. Grabbing Taeil firmly, he maneuvers his boyfriend to wrap his legs around his hips, awarding Taeil height and the position to lead the kiss.

“I missed you too,” Youngho admits, when Taeil lets him breathe. He thanks all higher powers for his rigorous Quidditch trainings as he carries Taeil back out into the living room on steady feet, “Thank you for coming home.”

Taeil, no longer distracted by Youngho’s lips, blinks at the sight of their kitchen. Then, a simple, “Bedroom?”

Youngho revels in the way Taeil doesn’t so much as _blush_ at his own straightforwardness, unlike the way he used to color vermillion at Youngho’s every touch.

“Dinner first,” Youngho says, releasing his hold on Taeil’s thighs to have him… dismount. Taeil, on the other hand, seems to have other plans, clinging tight onto Youngho, not needing the support to hold himself up. If Youngho weren’t worried about Taeil’s arduous journey home, he would’ve been a lot more impressed. “You’ve had a hard day, babe, you need to eat.”

Taeil hooks his chin over Youngho’s shoulder defiantly, “Bedroom first.”

“You’re not going to win this argument,” Youngho says, holding onto Taeil again when he feels the smaller boy threaten to fall off. “I made dinner, and you’re going to eat it first.”

“Youngho – ”

“Nope,” Youngho pops the _p_. He releases Taeil again, and this time he does untangle himself from Youngho, but not without stealing another languid kiss. “You’re going to be needing some energy in you anyway if we’re going to go all night.”

Taeil glares at him, walking towards the stove stop while swaying his hips. “This is my first night home in ages and you want me to go _all_ night.”

“You’re right.” Youngho sees no point in arguing, because he knows Taeil’s going to be the one that’s whining for round after round anyway. “You need the rest.”

“Mm,” Taeil hums, waving to put together a bowl of stew for himself. “Oh,” he clasps his hands together, moving away from the steel pot. Youngho takes over and floats the pot to the dining table, where Taeil is rummaging through his bag.

With a bit more excavating, Taeil brandishes a brown bag with wet corners. He dries them with a snap, then hands them to Youngho with a smile, “For you.”

Youngho takes the bag and peers into it, a grin gracing his lips the moment he realizes what they are, “Pumpkin Pasties?”

“Your favorite,” Taeil nods. “I know you couldn’t have them during season, so I grabbed a couple of them for you on the way home.”

Youngho reaches for one instantly, biting into them with a moan. With his mouth full of the self-proclaimed best-pastry-ever, “ _Now_ I really love you.”

Taeil feigns a look of hurt, “Are you saying that you didn’t love me before?”

Youngho scoffs, “If I recall, _you_ didn’t say you loved me back when I did earlier.”

“Yeah, well,” Taeil shrugs, picking the bowl of stew back up,

“After I finish this, I’ll _show_ you just how much.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


	10. chensung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jisung/chenle - vampire!au  
> 1428w
> 
> warning: this is more of a character study/universe building - related to youngho/taeil's chapter 3.

Jisung wakes to the sound of screaming.

His hand flies immediately to the fixed blade knife under his pillow, fingers curling around the handle. Lightly, he throws the covers off him and approaches the door, uncaring for how he’s only clad in a thin shirt and sweats, no armor whatsoever. If Jaehyun saw him now, he’d get assigned _months_ of paperwork, and it’d be summer by the time he’d be allowed out in the field again.

Another groan, then a loud _thud_.

Carefully, he turns the knob, suppressing a flinch when he hears a deathly snarl. He tightens his grip on the handle and readies a little magic, but sadly barely feeling its spark. With how much Donghyuck’s been tutoring him, Jisung’s afraid to admit how weak still his pull on his magic is. He stores it away for now, focusing on the argument unfolding just five-feet from his bedroom door, hushed whispers and heated hisses.

“ _Hold_ on to him!”

“I _am_ holding on to him, you’re – ”

“We’re practically dragging him across the hallway – this is definitely _not_ what Doyoung meant by keeping him safe!”

“Christ, you’re such a brownnoser – Doyoung, _this_! Doyoung, _that_! Can you just – watch his head!”

The Institute is small, with only the handful of them in training, so Jisung recognizes the voices easily – Jaemin and Jeno. The pair of seraphim two years older than he was, both apprentices under the same trainer, both apprentices towards the road of becoming an Enforcer.

Jisung angles himself to try and get a better look of – whatever it is between the pair. He squints, stepping an inch forward, cursing his astigmatism and sleep-addled mind, because what is _that_ – is that? _What in the name of –_

Jisung shifts, holding the knife in front of his thigh as a precaution. Though, that proves to be a terrible idea when the hall-light catches on the blade, shining right between where Jeno and Jaemin are trying to right the –

His head snaps up, inhumanely quick, and Jisung draws a sharp breath.

White. Red. _Fangs_.

Vampire.

Jisung’s heart slams against his ribcage. He hadn’t ever seen a _real_ vampire before, and none of the dummies in the training cage could ever compare to the sight of this one standing such a meager distance from him.

The vampire glares at him, eyes a blood red. His lips are red, so, _so_ red that Jisung doesn’t have to think to know what it is. The _smell_ , Jisung tries not to retch.

The boy frowns, and then he _snarls_.

Suddenly, a _pull_.

Something Jisung’s never felt before, like it’s trying to claw its way out of Jisung’s gut, wrenching through his organs and straight to his heart. Nothing like the fear he’d pushed through during his first day of fieldwork with Jaehyun, earning gashes and wounds on his arms because he’d fallen through a trap right after Jaehyun’d warned him about it. Nothing like the sadness he’d felt the day his mother dropped him off at the Institute with nothing but a backpack of family heirlooms. Nothing like the pain he’d cried through the night he found out he couldn’t pull magic like everyone else could.

Nothing, _ever_.

Jisung gasps, his throat closing up. He opens his eyes to see the vampire’s frown easing, eyes flashing once as if he’d seen through Jisung like he was nothing. Jisung wrangles for air and he stutters, taking in the vampire’s expression growing – melancholic.

The knife falls from his hands, and Jisung squeezes his eyes shut – ready for his last breath.

 

“ – sung!”

Jeno is yelling at him now, and Jisung forces his eyes open again. Instantly, he feels Jaemin’s magic encase the hallway, and he know it’s Jaemin’s because it tingles like sugar, _sweet_. The connection drops, and Jisung falls to his knees in a coughing fit, trying to regain his breath.

The vampire writhes in pain, letting out another ear-splitting shriek that’s sure to haunt them all for days.

Jisung feels it _in_ him, and he gags, as if his body were trying to expel whatever it was that’d gotten into him.

Jeno magics a message and it whizzes down the hall, slicing through Jaemin’s magic clearly with the tinge of spearmint. Jisung grapples for his knife, hating the way he’s doubled over on his knees. He can’t think about that too long however, because Jaehyun is materializing right before his very eyes, right hand outstretched before him.

Levelled and firm, “What happened?”

Jaemin shakes his head, stammering, “W – we were just going down the hall – ”

“And he _did_ something to Jisung,” Jeno continues for him. “I don’t know what it was – I didn’t feel it, but Jisung – ”

Jaehyun is by his side, emitting warmth and light (“Like a _true_ seraph,” Youngho would tease), “Jisung, can you describe to me what you’re feeling?”

“ – eathe,” he chokes. “I can’t _breathe_.”

With a wave of his hand, Jaehyun roughly yanks the shapeless pain out of Jisung. Only for the briefest second, Jisung sees the black cloud that’s pulled from him, before Jaehyun casts it away with an incantation Jisung’s never heard of. His lungs open up, and Jisung holds on to Jaehyun’s knee, taking in big gulps of air.

“Bring him to Taeyong,” Jaehyun instructs, helping Jisung to his feet. Jaemin and Jeno exchange panicked glances, but Jaehyun gives them a reassuring nod, “I’ve sent a message to him, he’s waiting for the three of you.”

Not in a position to argue, Jaemin and Jeno hurry off, dragging the vampire down the hall briskly. Jisung dares not look up until he knows from his peripheral that they’ve gone down the corner, releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding on to.

“Sorry,” is the first word that tumbles from his lips. Jaehyun picks the knife up and hands it to Jisung, handle first, “I heard screaming and I was worried something had happened.”

“That’s fine,” Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair. Jisung’s brain shallowly registers that Jaehyun’s still dressed in armor, wounds on his neck that still haven’t yet been tended too. Yuta wouldn’t allow for that, ever.

_Did they just come back from another raid?_

“Are you still having trouble breathing?”

Jisung shakes his head. He musters the courage to ask, “What was that – thing?”

Jaehyun debates over awarding Jisung the information, eventually caving to Jisung’s curiousity. Silently, he ushers Jisung back into his room, sighing when he shuts the door, “ _That_ was a vampire. One that’s been recently Turned, that is.”

Jisung stays mum, waiting for more.

“We found a team of them feeding in the public zoo,” Jaehyun explains. “There was an attack at a house party filled with college kids, and this – boy’s the only one that survived the Turning.”

“What?” Jisung leaves to rest his fixed blade on his dresser. Jaehyun motions for him to get into bed, so he obediently does, pulling the comforter over his chest, “The only one?”

“Just the one,” Jaehyun dims out the light with a snap, leaving just the lamp by Jisung’s bed still lit. “Zhong Chenle is his name, according to the I.D. in his wallet.”

The name sends a shiver down Jisung’s spine, all the way to the tips of his toes, “What’s going to happen to him?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jaehyun admits. He incants a puff of linen scented air above Jisung’s crown in an effort to lull him into slumber, “Taeyong might have some expertise in this, but nothing’s for certain… This is the first we’ve encountered a vampire like him.”

“Taeyong?” Jisung fights the drowsiness. If he were going to Taeyong, then it _must_ be serious. The Institute tends to not request for Taeyong’s help unless it were dire, considering how they’re required to answer the Council, should anything go awry. “Are they going to – ”

The word sticks to the walls of Jisung’s throat.

“No,” Jaehyun answers. He looks unsure, however, “The Institute is here for everyone, no matter the season of their life they’re in.”

“Then what about – ”

“Sleep, Ji,” Jaehyun says, giving him a loaded look. Jisung quietens. “I can’t tell you anything more than this, I’m sorry.”

Jisung nods, blinking slowly. He knows better than to fight Jaehyun’s slumber spells, so he concedes to it, barely registering the sound of Jaehyun leaving his room, locking the door after him.

Sleep comes moments later, and Jisung spends his dreams turning the name around and around, wondering if he’d ever see him again –

_Zhong Chenle._

(He does.

The next morning, at breakfast.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;;
> 
> i might have some plans for this universe, but no promises ;;


	11. noren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun/jeno - canon!au  
> 2289w

“Hyung, are you going to finish that?”

Jisung’s already reaching for the fries on Renjun’s dinner plate, not really looking for an answer. He’d picked steak as his main course over fish-and-chips, thinking that it’d come with fries too, and was absolutely devastated when the steak came with a side salad instead. Sneakily, Jisung’d been stealing fries off of Renjun’s plate all evening, thinking the boy too distracted to notice.

To an extent, Jisung wasn’t any wrong. Renjun _was_ distracted. As distracted as one could be at a Halloween party, with music thumping through the overhead speakers, vision hindered by the blur of wigs and colored outfits. 

Renjun picks his glass up and brings it to his lips, watching over the rim as Jeno’s dragged to yet another corner of the room by Doyoung, blue robes billowing behind him. He straightens up in his seat for a better view, eyeing the way Jeno rights the headpiece he has on, then smiles for a picture. A few flashes go off and Jeno thanks the photographer, turning away as Doyoung rests his hands on Jeno’s shoulder, leading them back to their table.

There’s really no other way to explain how _good_ Jeno looks but to say that he looks _good_. As in, Renjun digests, as good as a prince from the Joseon era would look, if a prince from the Joseon era had perfect skin and an even more perfect set of teeth for his perfect smile. Never in a million years would Renjun have thought that seeing his boyfriend of three months decked out in ancient sino-korean garb stir such an emotion in him.

An emotion that involved taking Jeno to some place else and kissing him silly, that is.

When Jeno and Doyoung near, Renjun angles his body away, trying to cover up the fact that he’d been staring at a certain prince the entire evening.

“You’re lucky there aren’t any press in here,” Jisung hums, nibbling on a particularly long fry, looking even cheekier with his drawn-on whiskers. “You’ve got your entire heart on your face, hyung.”

Renjun swats Jisung’s hand away, “Don’t steal my fries, brat.”

Jisung pouts, “But I asked!”

“I didn’t say _yes_ ,” Renjun tells him, just as Jeno sinks heavily into the seat beside him. A seat that’s been empty for the better part of the party. Renjun clears his throat and feigns nonchalance, “Been busy?”

“Suppose so,” Jeno sighs, not quite looking at Renjun. He forks himself a bite of his fish fillet, chewing quickly when another photographer looms two tables from them, “Everyone’s really eating into this whole ‘Father-son’ thing Doyoung hyung’s going on about. They’re even asking if we’re going to keep this concept up for next year.”

“I mean,” Renjun shrugs. He plays with the condensation forming on his glass of Diet Coke, “Could you blame them? It _is_ a pretty good costume.”

Jeno glances at him with a smile so bright that Renjun’d rather stare dead into one of the strobe light machines by the stage, “Thanks.”

Renjun tries to smile back, but his heart stutters and his mind blurs, too out of it to say anything coherent.

Thankfully, Jisung interrupts with a, “Hyung, can I have some of your fries?”

Renjun turns to say _No_ , out of spite for that comment earlier, but Jeno’s nodding _Yes_ , handing his own plate of fish-and-chips to Jisung and his grabby hands. He takes a large gulp from his watered down ginger ale, exhaling loudly when the photographer inches a table closer.

“Are you not going to eat?” Renjun asks, watching Jisung scarf down Jeno’s fries from his peripheral. A growing boy, Jisung is. “We’re going to be here for a pretty long time – you should eat something.”

“There’s tiramisu for dessert, I hear.” Jeno licks his lips in anticipation, and Renjun’s stomach flip-flops. “I’m saving room for it.”

He protests, “But that’s not going to be served until later, Jeno, and you haven’t had lunch either.”

“I’m fine,” Jeno takes Renjun by the hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The heat from Jeno’s palm shoots up to Renjun’s ears, coloring it pink under his fake Peter Pan ones. “I just want a break from the photographs,” he mumbles, “They’re starting to blind my eyes a little.”

“Are your lenses getting too dry?” Renjun’s knee bumps into Jeno’s when he leans close to ask, but neither of them inch away. The music seems to escalate a notch higher, but neither of them seem to care. “Do you have your eye drops with you?”

“No,” Jeno breathes. His gaze drops to Renjun’s lips, forcing a hiccup bubble through Renjun, “I was thinking of – going to get them.”

_Oh._

“Hold the fort,” Renjun tells Jisung, already getting to his feet. He explains when Jisung stares at him with wide eyes and cheeks full of chewed up potato, “Jeno and I are going – to get his eye drops.”

Jisung scrunches his nose, “Ew.”

Renjun ignores him and Jeno tugs on his hand, leading the way through the crowd and out of the ballroom the moment the photographers reach the head of their table. It’s a blur, so Renjun follows blindly, keeping his eyes trained on Jeno’s robes as the younger boy drags him down the hallway (of make-up artists and managers that are too busy with their own conversations to realize two meddling boys escaping the event).

“Where are we going?” Renjun asks, breathless and exhilarated at the thought of skipping out on the company party, even if it were for only a minute. Jeno keeps going, passing the bathrooms and heading towards a more familiar section of the building, “Jeno?”

“Here,” he finally answers, pushing the door open to one of the company’s many practice rooms. Light from the hallway seeps into the otherwise dark room, and Renjun follows Jeno in, not questioning more.

The air is a little stale since the air-conditioning is turned off, but Renjun doesn’t think that’s why he’s breaking into a sweat when Jeno closes the glass door. He stumbles forward, sight hindered by the fact that the lights were still out (for if it weren’t, they would surely be caught), and Jeno catches him with ease.

Renjun’s heartbeats are amplified by the silence the practice room brings, a completely different setting than the music-playing, chatter-filled ballroom they were in just a minute ago. He wills his heart to _shut up_ , but it proves to be moot, even going against his wishes and speeding up.

“Hey,” Jeno mumbles, hands dropping to Renjun’s hips from where he’d been holding Renjun up.

Renjun finally regains control over his limbs, reaching up to rest his hands on Jeno’s shoulders, “Hi.”

Jeno starts to sway then, stepping small from side-to-side, as if they were in the middle of a high school dance, cheesy and painfully romantic. Renjun breaks into a grin at the thought, letting Jeno lead him back and forth.

They’ve stayed late in practice rooms together, of course, even til dawn, watching the sun rise over the city after a long night of practice. Though, it’s never been like this, shrouded in darkness, praying no one walk in, hiding from everyone and having this time to themselves.

Renjun wonders if this is what it’d feel like to run away with Jeno. If they were in an age-old fairytale, running away from their lives and building a new one together, living in some isolated farm with forest animals and, hopefully, indoor plumbing. He wonders if they’d still be like this, together, or if dancing silently in Jeno’s arms is the best they’re ever going to get, if it’s as much as they _can_ have. He wonders –

“What are you thinking about?”

Confidence bolstering in the dark, Renjun coils his arms around Jeno’s neck, pulling them closer together. He says, in a whisper because the air is so delicate around them that Renjun’d do anything to keep it together,

“You.”

Jeno’s eyes twinkle in the dark, “What about me?”

“Nothing,” Renjun bites on his lip. He’d keep his little fairytale to himself (for now), “Just you.”

“Sure,” Jeno hums, not quite believing what he’s told, but not at all pushing for more. “You look very cute today.”

Renjun denies the desire to kiss Jeno already, because this flirting? This static between them? Whatever it is – it’s got Renjun’s nerves on fire.

This play, whatever it is that Jeno’s doing to him with every blink, with every lick to the lips, with every _breath_. It’s got Renjun’s heart strings pulled taut, the end of them in Jeno’s hands, giving him the reign. There’s only so much Renjun can do without pathetically crumbling to his knees, considering how his ability to maintain his composure around Jeno is one that’s held together flimsily by duct tape.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Renjun returns coolly. He follows as Jeno’s steps, rhythmic to the sound of nothing. With a small laugh, “What are we doing?”

Jeno squeezes his hip once, “Dancing, of course.”

“Without music?”

The question doesn’t seem to surprise Jeno, who answers without hesitation, “Sing for me?”

A request so simple, but – not, at the same time. Renjun is a _singer_ , he sings for a living, he _lives_ to sing, really. Though, the moment Jeno requests for it, Renjun’s throat goes dry and his cheeks heat up, rendering him unable to even hum. It’s not something Jeno asks for often, but whenever he does, Renjun thinks it’s far more nerve-racking than any stage he’s ever stood on.

He sings when Jeno’s down, when Jeno’s sick, when Jeno’s hurting; as much as he doesn’t quite believe it, Jeno never fails to tell him that the sound of his voice helps like an elixir. As if he could solve Jeno’s everything with just his voice, as if his voice could really do so much to Jeno.

With that, Renjun never denies Jeno his voice, loving the way Jeno loves it. 

Renjun swallows thickly, “What do you want to hear?”  

“A love song,” Jeno requests.

Immediately, Renjun panics. They haven’t yet traded _I love you_ s (at least, not in the way lovers do), as much as Renjun’s said it in his mind, and Renjun thinks he might need a little more mental preparation for it.

Not that he isn’t _ready_ to say it, because he is. Or at least, he believes he is. At nineteen, there’s only so much Renjun knows about love, and he isn’t about to go right ahead and call know-it-all on something he wants to treasure dearly. It’s the first time he’s ever dated (“For heaven’s sake – that _one_ girl in the first year of middle school doesn’t _count_! It lasted for a _day_ , Jeno!”), and Renjun’s only frame of reference when it comes to love are the movies he’s seen and the songs he’d heard.

A lightbulb lights, and Renjun’s never been happier about his linguistic abilities.

Hooking his chin over Jeno’s shoulder, he starts off shakily to one of his favorite songs that’s long impressed in his heart – in Mandarin, of course. Even with all of the tutoring Jeno’s been plummeted with, Renjun’s sure the boy’s language skills aren’t all that up to par to understanding him just yet.

He gets through the first verse nervously, slowly, keeping his eyes trained to the wall behind Jeno. Jeno’s hand on his hip taps to the sound of his voice, holding Renjun so close, nose pressed into the side of Renjun’s neck. He breathes in deeply, and Renjun stutters over the last words of the verse.

Rightly, Renjun musters up enough courage to sing the chorus proper,

 

 _My dear,_  
_From the day I fell in love with you,  
_ _it’s never been sweeter._

Even if Jeno doesn’t get what he’s singing, Renjun knows it himself. He continues on, closing his eyes as he sings lyrics he hopes to one day admit aloud, ones that reflect his heart.

 

 _My dear,  
_ _I fell in love with you._

_Our love’s full of memories,_  
_and in all of my dreams,  
_ _you’re in every one._

 

It’s so intoxicatingly sweet that Renjun has no choice but to take it all in, etching this memory deep into his heart. He hugs Jeno even tighter as he sings the final verse, whispering them as the mood starts to fall away, embarrassment sinking in.

Jeno, however, doesn’t let him feel that way for too long, breaking them apart to kiss Renjun sweetly. Renjun does fall apart then, hanging onto Jeno like he is for dear life, knees buckling when Jeno sucks on his lower lip.

They kiss, for too long a time, and Renjun’s positively blissed out by the time Jeno pulls away, gaze dazed and eyes unfocused. He’s sure he’s still seeing three blurred out copies of Jeno when the boy whispers to him,

“Me too.”

That sends a spark straight through Renjun’s sternum, and his eyes fly open, “What?”

“You said ‘love’,” Jeno grins, ducking forward to steal a kiss that Renjun hasn’t the time to return. “Somewhere in those lyrics, you said ‘love’ – I know that word, Jun. It’s one of the first words I’d learned.”

“I – I – ”

Jeno hugs him, “And I’m telling you – me too.”

“You too?” Renjun repeats, a little dumbly, a little hopefully. His heart very promptly explodes when Jeno reaffirms with a nod, and a smile, and a

“Me too.”

 

 

 

(Renjun thinks he’d be fine with it, if the best he can get with Jeno is a silent dance in the boy’s arms, if that’s all he can ever have. He thinks he’ll always want more, with Jeno, he’ll want things he can’t have, things he’ll never have, not in this life, or the next.

Though at least – he’ll always have _this_.)

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrics are based loosely off '[love confession](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bu7nU9Mhpyo)' by jay chou  
> wanted to post this separately, but it's too short ;;;
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated! ;;;


	12. jaewoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jungwoo/jaehyun - canon!au  
> 2426w
> 
> warnings: crossdressing

“You look so pretty, it’s ridiculous.”

Jungwoo keeps his eyes shut and his lips zipped. He doesn’t want to look into the mirror more than necessarily required, no matter the slew of compliments the make-up artist insists on giving him. She continues to powder on more make up, and Jungwoo takes the minutes to calm his beating heart.

Dressing up as a girl isn’t anywhere on his to-do list in life, but once the idea was seeped into everyone’s minds… Jungwoo couldn’t say much to stop it from happening. He was thrown into a series of dress fittings and hair extension meetings that honestly were far too detailed for a mere Halloween party. There were many instances of getting pricked by pins and prodded by measuring tape that Jungwoo _couldn’t_ back out now, not when this much effort’s been invested.

“Whoa, hyung.”

Jungwoo keeps his eyes closed, but he acknowledges Minhyung, “Is it bad?”

The make-up artist makes an offended tut, but Jungwoo ignores it in favor of hearing Minhyung’s response – “No,” he says. Then, “You actually look really nice.”

The compliment, coming from Minhyung, gives Jungwoo a little confidence boost, so he allows himself to take a little peek. His fingers are knotted together so tightly, nervous at the way his reflection – long, brown hair, eyes and lips made up, dress fitting perfectly around his chest – stares back, a little soulless and… melancholic.

“That’s nice of you to say.”

Jungwoo is snapped back into reality at Taeil’s lazy drawl. He speaks from his seat in the make-up chair to Jungwoo’s right, already decked out in his delivery man gear, “I was very loudly laughed at last year when Minhyung saw _me_ dressed as Belle.”

“That’s different, hyung!” Minhyung whines, shuffling to stand between them, toying with the pair of glasses in his hands. He was going as Detective Conan, blue suit and everything. “Hyuck and I saw you in the dress without the wig… You hadn’t had your wig on then, it was a totally different feeling!”

“No need – the damage has been done,” Taeil clicks his tongue. He relinquishes a smile when Minhyung pouts, reiterating over and over how _pretty_ he’d thought Taeil was as Belle.  

Jungwoo closes his eyes again, and the make-up artist returns to work. She adds a little more color and glitter to his eyelids, and Jungwoo wrestles to make his heart shut up. Thankfully, Youngho enters the room (by the sound of his feet clomping around) and he’s distracted by the room’s new discussion on whether or not Youngho should draw on whiskers.

“You _are_ a tiger,” Taeil says, as if it weren’t obvious enough. “You should have whiskers.”

Youngho hums, “But the costume comes with whiskers, so logically speaking, I shouldn’t need whiskers.”

Minhyung chimes in, “I don’t think there’s anything logical about dressing up as a tiger off a cereal box.”

“That’s besides the point.” There’s a pout to Youngho’s voice, “Would the whiskers be too much?”

“You’re six-foot tall and dressed in a bright orange suit,” Taeil deadpans. “I think we’re all past ‘too much’.”

“Hmm.”

Jungwoo shifts in his seat, listening to Youngho ponder. The make-up artist seems to catch Jaemin running down the hall with his hair flying in the wind, so she chases him in efforts to have him not ruin her work. Minhyung follows, calling for a picture together before they film the videos for the day.

It’s silent again, but Jungwoo keeps his eyes closed.

“Don’t you think I’d look dumb with two sets of whiskers?”

Jungwoo hears Taeil sigh, “Youngho, you tower over most people we know. No one’s going to notice you’ve got whiskers on your head.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“You don’t look dumb,” Taeil says. His voice loses the monotonous tune it had earlier, morphing into something softer. “You could be dressed in a banana outfit and I wouldn’t say you looked dumb.”

Youngho seems to disagree, “You said I looked dumb when I had those blue-green-purple checkered pants on.”

Taeil pauses, “Are you even hearing yourself?”

“Those were in fashion! Even the stylist said – ”

“Alright, Jungwoo,” the make-up artist returns, effectively shutting Youngho up. “You’re done for now. We’ll do a touch-up before we leave for the venue, but try not to get anything smudged because we haven’t the time to redo the look later on, okay?”

Jungwoo nods obediently, listening to her call for Jaemin again. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, avoiding the full mirror in front of him, focused on his hands and the way they look so pale against maroon.

Carefully, he inches his way down the corridor, slinking past where Chenle is screaming around the practice room, chasing after Jeno with his bright red balloon floating behind him. Jungwoo turns his attention back to the corner he’s about to make, stifling a gasp when he slams head first into just the person he doesn’t want to see.

_Warmth._

“Oh my god.”

Jungwoo cringes inwardly, training his eyes on the floor. Distantly, he hears Jeno beg for mercy and Jungwoo wishes he could do the same.

“Wow,” Jaehyun stammers. He inches forward to try and get a better look of Jungwoo, “You look – ” Jungwoo holds his breath. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear, he didn’t know what he _didn’t_ want to hear. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” Jungwoo bristles, snatching his hands from Jaehyun. He takes a step to the left, trying to make a break for it, but Jaehyun matches him easily. Curse those basketball sessions he’s been having with Youngho. “Uh, excuse me – ”

“Wait,” Jaehyun shoots out an arm, blocking Jungwoo’s path. It’s a weak barricade, one Jungwoo can barrel right on through if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, waiting for Jaehyun to speak again. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Jungwoo waves his hands dismissively. He doesn’t meet Jaehyun’s eyes, however, having them meet only with the suspenders of his outfit. “Yes, of course.”

Jaehyun doesn’t buy it, “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Jungwoo says, feeling his chest laden with something heavy. Something he can’t yet identify. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Jaehyun pushes, arm still up before Jungwoo. A little gentler, “You can talk to me.”

Jungwoo shakes his head, but he feels his resolve cracking. How could he keep this from Jaehyun? How could he keep _anything_ from Jaehyun? More than being a boyfriend of close to a whole year, this was _Jaehyun._ Jungwoo would never _want_ to hide anything from Jaehyun.

“Jungwoo? Are you okay?”

Something in him snaps, and Jungwoo shakes his head. He looks to the ceiling, feeling pressure build up behind his eyes, and he knows how dumb it’s going to be – that he’s going to cry over something so trivial.

“C’mere,” Jaehyun whispers, pulling Jungwoo gently by the elbow. He follows, stumbling as they go, Jaehyun leading them to an unoccupied recording studio. Jungwoo makes a rush for the Kleenex on the table, pressing the tissue to his eyes before he can ruin his make-up.

The air is tight in the room, and Jungwoo makes a quick work of the tears he’d let escape, wadding the tissue up and tossing it into the trashcan. He sniffles noisily and takes a big inhale, turning to face Jaehyun standing anxiously by the door. He has his hands to the sides, fists clenched as if he didn’t quite know what to do about the situation.

“How do I look?” Jungwoo asks, ignoring the crack in his voice. He gestures to the dress and the hair, “Do I look nice?”

Jaehyun studies him carefully, reading past his useless questions. Slowly, he takes a step forward, deliberation clear on his perfect face. Jungwoo swallows the urge to cry, and Jaehyun asks, “Why are you asking me this?”

“It’s a costume,” Jungwoo says, hating the way he can feel the wig tickle his back. _Christ_ , “I’m asking you because we – match today.”

Jaehyun stares, “And – are you not happy with that?”

Jungwoo avoids it entirely, “Do I look nice or not?”

Jaehyun decides in a heart beat, firmly. “Yes, you do,” he says. “You look really – amazing.”

“Okay,” Jungwoo nods. His heart lurches, and he doesn’t want to delve in to _why_ it did. At least, not now. “Let’s get out of here, the rest must be wondering – ”

“Jungwoo, wait – ”

Jungwoo grabs on to the stupid dress and heads for the door, “Come on, hyung, we have to – ”

“‘Hyung’?” Jaehyun repeats, pain masked under confusion.

Jungwoo bites on his lip. He hadn’t meant to, not when they’d agreed to drop honorifics when they’d first started dating, especially when it was just the two of them. Using it again made it seem like everything… wasn’t. The last time he’d used it was when they’d been fighting and Jungwoo’d said it to make a point, pushing Jaehyun away, leading to only more tears and a guilty heart.

“‘Hyung’?” Jaehyun says again. His hand flies to the handle, body protecting the only way out of the studio.

Jungwoo knows if he tells Jaehyun to move, he would, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I didn’t mean – ”

“What happened, Jungwoo?” Jaehyun interjects. “Can you please tell me? Because you’re scaring me right now, okay, what happened?”

Jungwoo exhales softly, screwing his eyes shut. The anxiousness in Jaehyun’s eyes match the one in his heart, and he’d never intended on having Jaehyun feel like this.

“Jungwoo, _please_ , just – ”

“I’ll dress up like this for you,” Jungwoo admits, in a single breath. Jaehyun stops talking, and the words tumble from Jungwoo’s lips as if he hasn’t got a filter, “I’ll do it for you, if you like it. If you like – the hair and the skirt and the make-up, I’ll – dress up for you.”

“What?” Jaehyun steps away from the door. He lifts a hand Jungwoo doesn’t take, “Wait, what?”

“You like it, right?” Jungwoo says, gripping his dress tight.

Jaehyun speaks haltingly, “I – wha – I mean – ”

“Yes,” Jungwoo cuts Jaehyun off to save him the trouble. He tries not to sound too… resigned, “I can do this – for you. And I can get better at make-up and I can – I can – ”

“Jungwoo.” Jaehyun’s hands land on his shoulders, anchoring him to reality, “What on earth are you talking about?”

Jungwoo nods, “I can – I can dress like a girl, if that’s what you like, Jae.”

The choked noise Jaehyun makes startles Jungwoo, hands immediately flying up to hug himself. He stares, uncertain, at Jaehyun, spluttering and wheezing for air as if he’d just been punched in the gut.

“What – ” Jaehyun coughs, “ _What_ would make you think that?”

Jungwoo shifts uncomfortably, “I mean – you wanted to go as Jack, and we said we’d match this year.”

Jaehyun blinks, “And?”

“‘And?’” Jungwoo frowns. “And you asked me to dress up as a girl, that ‘and’!”

“But,” Jaehyun’s brows knit together, dark and brooding, almost. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean it – ” he drops his voice, “ – I didn’t mean it _that_ way. I just – thought it would be a funny costume.”

Jungwoo balks, “What?”

“I didn’t mean to make you go as – ” Jaehyun’s ears color a bright red. “It’s not – something I _like_ , Jungwoo.”

“You said,” Jungwoo feels himself falter. “You said you liked it.”

Jaehyun deliberates, “I like it because it’s _you._ Not because – of anything else, Jungwoo. I like you, not the – dress or the hair or the make-up. It’s you.”

Jungwoo wants to crawl into a cave and live out the rest of his days alone. He feels another wave of tears threatening to build, from embarrassment, “Oh.”

“Don’t cry,” Jaehyun says, and it makes Jungwoo’s lips tremble. “I mean – oh god,” he fumbles for another tissue, stepping closer and helping Jungwoo with the onslaught of tears, “I am so sorry, babe, I didn’t – ”

Jungwoo shushes him, knowing that if he heard more, the tears would never stop. He beats himself over and over again – he’d been thinking about it all month, how Jaehyun wanted him to go as Rose. Was it because Jaehyun wanted to see Jungwoo in – a different light? Did Jaehyun have other preferences he’d never shared? Would Jungwoo fit into these unsaid and unshared preferences?

He’d spent all this time overthinking, _worrying_ – just to find out that Jaehyun’d proposed this very idea because he’d thought it’d be funny.

Right. 

“I love you,” Jaehyun whispers sincerely. Unhelpfully.

Jungwoo groans, blindly smacking him in the shoulder, “Don’t make me cry even more.”

“Sorry,” Jaehyun mumbles. He lunges for another tissue, switching out the used one expertly. He returns to Jungwoo’s side after tossing it out, wrapping his arms around Jungwoo’s waist, “But I _do_ love you. And I mean _you_.”

“Seriously, Jung Jaehyun,” Jungwoo stifles a sob. He can practically _hear_ Jaehyun smiling at the use of his last name, a testimony to their relationship. Jungwoo makes a mental note to apologize again later on, “You had me running around like a headless chicken because of this.”

Jaehyun mumbles, “You could’ve asked me about it.”

Jungwoo pats the tears away to glare at Jaehyun, “Should I have just walked up to you and question you about it?”

Despite it all, Jaehyun _laughs_ , “I guess not.” He plucks the tissue from Jungwoo’s fingers, throwing it into the trash. Sweetly, he laces their hands together, “But if you did, I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jungwoo exhales, “Of course not.”

“I love you,” Jaehyun says, and Jungwoo is thankful because it’s a phrase he wants to hear. And Jaehyun knows just that, “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“Alright, I get it,” Jungwoo grumbles, still petulant at how big this blew up in his face, thanks to his overactive mind. He tugs on one of Jaehyun’s suspenders, pulling his close for a chaste kiss, “I love you too.”

“You’re amazing,” Jaehyun whispers, holding Jungwoo close. “And I love you for who you are. I’ll love you even if you want to dress up, I’ll love you even if you don’t. I love _you_.”

“I love you,” Jungwoo sighs, the words sinking in him. Jaehyun smiles at him good-naturedly, and Jungwoo indulges in the flicker of evil in him (though it wasn’t at all Jaehyun’s fault for his month-long torment), “I should’ve known better.”

Jaehyun’s frown returns, “What?”

Jungwoo shrugs, snapping the suspender his in his hand, “I already know all the weird things you’re into anyway.”

“ _All_ the _weird_ – ” Jaehyun’s face goes a beet red, “Kim Jungwoo!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got longer and deeper than i thought it would, so don't read too much into it please, thank you
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated ;;;


	13. renmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun/jaemin - fantasy!au  
> 1466w

Minhyung thinks he’s being petty, but Donghyuck thinks he’s right, and that’s all that really matters honestly, because Donghyuck trumps them all when it comes to handling relationships. Renjun says this to himself as he darts across the room to shove his notes into his backpack, repeating it under his breath like a mantra.

Pushing past his hesitation, Renjun stalks over to his dresser and pulls open the top drawer, revealing an array of jewelry he hasn’t recently been using. He decorates his hands with an assortment of silver rings, topping it off with a silver charm bracelet on his right, plan falling steadily into place. It feels odd, to have them on him, after having not for the last couple of months, but Renjun shakes the thought from his mind, bumping the drawer shut.

He makes sure his wand is in the back pocket of his jeans before giving his dresser a final glance, deeming himself ready for a long morning ahead.

“Be firm,” Renjun mutters, picking up his backpack and slinging it over a shoulder. He throws the front door open and locks it behind him, “Don’t cave, do _not_ cave.”

Right on cue, however, he screams when Jaemin so rightfully materializes right before Renjun’s very eyes. He must have been waiting in the shades, waiting for Renjun to leave the dorms. Minhyung’d probably given Jaemin some sort of protective enchantment, because here he is, a _vampire_ , standing under the morning sun in a pair of really, _really_ tight jeans.

“Renjun,” Jaemin says, lifting a hand towards him.

The moral part of Renjun’s brain takes control of his limbs, and he dodges Jaemin’s advances before the boy can grab him by the hand — and hurt himself, as do all vampires do when it comes to _silver._

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin rushes to say, having not yet noticed the shine on Renjun’s hands. He takes another step closer, and Renjun tucks his hands into his pockets, suddenly regretting his decision to deck out in silver. Jaemin lips are pulled down into a sad frown, and all Renjun wants to do is kiss it better, “I didn’t mean to be late.”

 _Be firm!_ Renjun is reminded by a weak yell reverberating around his mind, and he straightens up, tipping his chin up haughtily, “You’re forgiven.” He starts to walk away, “I have to go for class now.”

“Wait, Jun – ” Jaemin’s hand closes around his elbow, forcing Renjun to stop short. The fingers in his pocket shift around uneasily. Sure, he was going to ignore Jaemin a little, maybe stop Jaemin from changing his mind with his sweet words and addictive touches, but he wasn’t _actually_ going to hurt Jaemin with silver. He didn’t sincerely account for Jaemin’s love for affection when he was devising this plan, “Don’t be like this, please?”

“I said it’s fine,” Renjun huffs, snatching his elbow away. “Forget about it, Jaemin.”

Jaemin pushes, following Renjun down the concrete pavement, “You’re obviously still mad at me, Renjun. I can’t just – have you be angry at me.”

“I already said – ”

“I found the candles,” Jaemin interjects, stepping into Renjun’s path, hands lifted up with his palms forward, surrendering. A wave of warmth hits Renjun in the chest and he feels a tingle in the roots of his hair. Jaemin nods slowly, “And the flowers and the dinner.”

Renjun makes an indignant noise, “Whatever.”

“I found them in the trash,” Jaemin whispers, blocking Renjun’s way with his advantageous height and formidable self. “I – I – ”

“Jaemin,” Renjun sighs, tired. He’d been ignoring Jaemin for two days now, ever since he’d waited six hours for Jaemin to come over like he said he would, but didn’t because of the sudden change in his schedule (night classes were more frequent for the undead in the summer). “It’s fine, I mean it. I’m not mad anymore. You forgot our anniversary, it’s fine, I know you were busy.”

“I didn’t forget!” Jaemin pleads, hands wringing in front of Renjun, desire to touch Renjun so apparent. His eyes are big and _gold_ , and Renjun knows the strain in his voice has got nothing to with hunger. “I didn’t forget – _please_ , you know I would’ve skipped if I could, but it was a practical, and – ”

“Jaemin – ”

“You threw everything away!” Jaemin inhales sharply. He bites down on his lip to keep it from trembling, but the shine in his eyes is painfully bright. “I had to feed after too because class had ran long, and I’d gotten lost with Donghyuck because we left the trail,” Renjun winces, haven’t yet heard this part of that night. “I had to go home to – shower before coming by, and you – threw everything away!”

“Well,” Renjun feels the ire coiling in his gut. “What did you _expect_ me to do? I waited for hours, you didn’t show up, I went to bed! That was it!”

“You could have left it there so that we could – ”

“‘So that’ what?” Renjun snaps, fighting the urge to pull his hands out of his pocket so that he could hug himself. Jaemin would sure reach for his hands and the burn would be far too painful, “So that it would make you feel guilty? So that we would fight about it in the morning?”

“What?” Jaemin stares at him, expression sullen. “You were just going to – pretend you never did anything? That you didn’t make dinner? Light candles? Buy flowers?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” Renjun looks away, unable to take Jaemin’s pained look, “It’s much easier than reliving those six hours thinking you hadn’t forgotten, that you just weren’t going to show up, that you didn’t _care_ – that you – that something _happened_ – ”

“I was late,” Jaemin expresses. He ducks to rest his head on Renjun’s shoulder, “I was _late_. I showed up, I _did_ show up. I was just late.”

Renjun closes his eyes, “I haven’t met anyone that’s ever been any later than fifteen minutes to a date.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin sighs. Another ton of bricks anchor Renjun down, “I didn’t mean to worry you, or make you think – I didn’t care, god, Renjun.”

“Well, _call_ , next time,” Renjun mumbles. The tension in his shoulders start to seep away when Jaemin pulls him into a stronger hug, holding them close. “Or just – text me, at least.”

“I know,” Jaemin presses his lips to the base of Renjun’s neck, sending a war through Renjun’s heart. With his lips pressed against Renjun, Jaemin mumbles, “Forgive me?”

Renjun itches to take his hands from his pockets, “There’s nothing to forgive – I overreacted, I shouldn’t have – pushed you away, I know you didn’t mean to – ” he mocks a tearful sniffle, “ – keep me waiting.”

“You’re terrible,” Jaemin grumbles, not at all loosening his grip. It’s in a moment that he realizes, “Why aren’t you hugging me back?”

“Er,” Renjun swallows thickly. He shakes Jaemin off to have him a safe distance away, smiling sheepishly at Jaemin’s questioning look. Heavily, he pulls his hands from his pockets, revealing the silver draped across his fingers.

Jaemin doesn’t flinch, “Is that – ”

“Silver,” Renjun tells him. He watches with bated breath as Jaemin digests the implications of him wearing silver, breathing a shallow sigh of relief when Jaemin starts to whine,

“Huang Renjun!” He pouts, a real testament to his sweet personality. Anyone else would’ve gotten mad, would’ve thought Renjun meant to harm, but Jaemin knows Renjun, and he knows Renjun’s probably just throwing a tiny fit over what had happened. “Did you really wear those because you didn’t want me near you?”

“No, of course not,” Renjun reaches for his wand. Wordlessly, he vanishes them from his hands, sending them back to his drawer. Jaemin stares at him petulantly, “I just didn’t want you clouding my judgement with your little touches you think I don’t notice.”

Jaemin raises his brows smugly, “So you thought having _silver_ would keep me away?”

“Not keep you away,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes. He proves his point by grabbing Jaemin’s hand and pulling him close, loving the coolness of his skin. “Just a tiny punishment, for having stood me up.”

“I didn’t stand you up,” Jaemin groans, but yet allowing Renjun to lean into his body, moulding them together. “And wasn’t ignoring me for forty-eight hours more than enough? Did you really have to use silver?”

“You’re right,” Renjun hums, resting his cheek against Jaemin’s clavicle. Even then he can hear the faint beat of Jaemin’s heart, “I’m sorry – how will I ever make it up to you?”

“You’re a mean fairy, you know that?”

Renjun turns his head to press a kiss to Jaemin’s neck, “So I’m often told.”

“Kiss me,” Jaemin mumbles, tilting Renjun away.

Renjun smiles, “Come here then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


	14. johnjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaehyun/youngho - college!au  
> 2175w
> 
> warning: pointless fluff

Jaehyun feels his toga slipping off as he sways against the couch’s armrest, tipsy and far more out of it than he’s letting on. The plastic crown on his head threatens to wobble off when he falls onto the seat, but Jaehyun rights it before it does, holding onto it dearly. He tries not to think too hard about when he’d been awarded the crown, because he certainly didn’t come to the party with it.

Thinking is hard, _oh_ , so very hard when Jaehyun is this intoxicated (he usually isn’t), and he fails to recall at which point of the party did he start to get progressively… more wasted and eventually incapable of walking.

“Jaehyun? Jaehyun.”

“Huh?” He mumbles blearily. The red solo cup in his hand is still half full (of what, he didn’t quite know) and he tries to bring it to his lips for another sip. It is, however, plucked out of his grasp by slender fingers, “Hey.”

“No more.”

Jaehyun blinks down at the white bedsheet Sicheng’d draped around him, pinning it in place with only a single safety pin. As a last-minute Halloween costume, Jaehyun’d been advised by the second-year fashion design major to go as Adonis – the greek god representing beauty and desire. Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s suited to be any kind of god though, not when he’s spent the last two minutes wondering why his hands seemed to blur against the sheets.

The voice speaks again, “Jaehyun, are you okay? Do you need to throw up?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, pulling his knees to his chest in an attempt to shrink himself into something smaller. He needed something else, _wanted_ something else, not the cold tiles of the bathroom floor or the lukewarm touch of this (supposed) stranger.

Another voice introduces itself with a sigh, “He’s definitely drunk.”

“I know.” The first voice is back, closer to Jaehyun now, smelling too much of sweets and too much of chocolates, “Jaehyun, do you want to go home?”

Pathetically, Jaehyun shakes his head again, gripping his toga (bedsheets) tight. There’s no one waiting for him at home tonight, not when Sicheng is out at a different party and Kun is out on a date at that art exhibition in the city. He couldn’t go elsewhere either, not in this state at least.

“Can he stay the night?” Chocolate-voice asks, a reassuring hand landing on Jaehyun’s knee.

“Sure,” the other replies. Jaehyun barely registers the black cape he’s in, paired with a pair of bright purple devil horns. _Devil Boy_ , he labels. “But the party doesn’t seem to be dying down any time soon… and I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave him on the couch like this.”

Jaehyun feels his toga being pulled higher up his shoulder, covering the bare skin that’d started to show. Pale against the dark leather he’s slumped against.

“I’m going to call Youngho,” Chocolate-voice says, sounding like he’s already got his phone in his hands. “Do you have his number?”

“No, wait – ” Jaehyun blindly grabs at what’s before him, fingers curling into soft cotton. They’re dislodged in the next second, and Jaehyun goes back to hugging himself, “He’s – busy, please don’t call him. He’s busy.”

“Here – call him,” Devil Boy says, ignoring Jaehyun’s pleas. Chocolate-voice gives Jaehyun an apologetic glance, “He’d want to know.”

Jaehyun tries again, but they sound out to be garbled words, alcohol messing around with his mind. He groans, and tries to stand, tries to prove that he doesn’t need Youngho to come and get him, not when he’s been so busy with everything lately.

Devil Boy frowns, pushing Jaehyun back down with a soft nudge to the shoulder.

“Hello, is this Youngho?” Chocolate-voice asks, hiding behind Devil Boy when Jaehyun starts to proclaim that he’s fine. He hopes Youngho hears, hopes Youngho knows it’s okay to not come and get him (, hopes Youngho comes anyway, hopes Youngho comes to get him).

“Yeah – yeah, that’s right, I’m hosting a Halloween party and Jaehyun – yeah, no, he’s fine, he’s not throwing up or anything, no. Okay, yeah, I can keep an eye on him.”

Jaehyun strains to hear Youngho’s voice, getting to his feet, but Devil Boy holds him down again, giving Jaehyun a look of disapproval. Jaehyun wobbles on his feet, then flops against the couch heavily.

“I’ll text you my address,” Jaehyun hears Chocolate-voice say, and it makes him stop struggling because Youngho is _coming._

Youngho who has been working days and nights at his two jobs, trying to build his savings account for when he’s going home at the end of the year.

Youngho’s who has been juggling those two jobs and his final year of college, not to mention struggling with sourcing for an internship to better his resumé. (“Working convenience stores and the school’s broadcasting team aren’t exactly great references, Jae.”)

Youngho who has been coming home late and leaving in the early mornings, far too busy to do anything the moment he steps over the threshold of his apartment, far too busy to entertain Jaehyun when he’d come bubbling excitedly about a new modeling gig he might’ve scored, far too busy to accompany Jaehyun to Chocolate-voice’s annual Halloween party, even though the date had been set for months.

“He’s coming?” Jaehyun asks, not quite believing the situation. Youngho is _busy_ , too busy. “Are you sure he’s coming?”

“Yes,” Chocolate-voice says, eyes piteous as he drops to his knees, comforting Jaehyun with a pat on the arm. “He’s getting off work within the hour, and he’s coming to get you, okay?”

Jaehyun nods, leaning to his left to rest his head against the couch’s armrest. Chocolate-voice gives him another pat on the knee, standing with a quiet sigh.

To Devil Boy, Jaehyun hears Chocolate-voice ask, “Would you come get me if I were this drunk?”

A scoff, “Would you even be asking for me if you were?”

“Depends – would you be at work?”

“Call me,” Devil Boy says, rolling his eyes. “Even if I were halfway across the world.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes when he sees Chocolate-voice award the devil a kiss, sinking sourly into the dark depths of his own mind. They leave his side but promise to keep watch, and Jaehyun nods, not wanting to be more of a burden than he already is.

Without much strength left in him, Jaehyun allows himself to clear his mind, presenting himself a blank canvas. Unsurprisingly, his mind wanders off anyway, to brown hair and brown eyes and full lips and sweet kisses. Jaehyun sighs gravely, holding onto the seat cushion like it could ever replace the boy he’s so used to holding while he slept.

_It must be the alcohol_ , Jaehyun muses, as visions of Youngho smiling, laughing, comes to mind, blending them messily and forming a soundless film he entertains. He sighs, willing the pounding headache away with memories of Youngho’s touch and kisses, words and whispers. His pulse races when he recalls the last time Youngho’d touched him tender, days ago and far too distant.

_Get a grip_ , he manages to think, still aware of his surroundings (music and chatter, deafening to his ears), even with his eyes closed tight. Jaehyun lets out a shallow sigh, trying to distract himself from getting up and running out the door in search for Youngho (and his touch and words and kisses), because Youngho is coming to get him.

Eventually, Jaehyun does succumb to a level of unconsciousness, despite his valiant efforts trying to stay awake for Youngho’s arrival.

Hours past – in Jaehyun’s mind – before a figure is hovering over him, blocking out the dots of disco lights that’d been decorating Jaehyun’s otherwise empty vision. He hadn’t been completely asleep, but Jaehyun sure isn’t any awake enough to be having full-length conversations.

He doesn’t speak to have the stranger move, now too tired and sleepy to even think of getting up. The stranger, however, doesn’t leave, crouching to where Jaehyun’s cheek is plastered against the seat cushion.

“Hello there.”

Jaehyun shrinks away, even though the smell of this new boy was positively intoxicating. “No,” he gargles out weakly. _Where is Youngho? Did he get off work yet?_ “No.”

“Jaehyun?”

He shies away from the voice, warped and hazy, “Go away. I – I have a boyfriend.”

The stranger laughs, and Jaehyun should’ve guessed easy who it was, just from his teasing lilt, “I know. I _am_ your boyfriend.”

Jaehyun opens his eyes unwillingly, cringing when the lights hit him with a sting. It doesn’t last for long, because his eyes are refocused on to the way Youngho’s smiling down at him, a little affectionately, a little in disbelief.

“You’re here,” Jaehyun blurts out, pushing himself up on to an elbow. “You came.”

Youngho, in all his good hair and good lips, stares at him, puzzled, “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Jaehyun blinks, haze parting in his mind thanks to the nap he’d taken. “I thought you were busy.”

Youngho squints at him, “Are you even drunk?”

“I am,” Jaehyun sniffs. He sits up, and Youngho steadies him, hand on his shoulder, “I mean, I think I _was_ , but I must’ve – slept it off.”

“Sorry,” Youngho says, reaching forward to card his fingers through Jaehyun’s hair. Jaehyun keens into the touch, exhaling softly, “I would’ve gotten here sooner, but the buses were down, so I had to take the subway.”

“No, that’s okay, I needed the nap,” Jaehyun blinks to clear the blurriness from his eyes. The alcohol still churns in his system, but Jaehyun thinks his head’s a little clearer now. Indistinctly, he recalls Chocolate-voice (Taeyong, he now knows) coming over with a glass of water and a swirly straw. “How long was I out?”

“Yong called me at – ,” Youngho checks his wristwatch, hair flopping about when he looks back up at Jaehyun, “ – a quarter after ten, so maybe – an hour and a half?”

“That long?” Jaehyun groans, burying his face in his hands. Youngho gets up from his knees to join Jaehyun on the couch, wrapping an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I made you come all the way out here when I could’ve just gone home myself.”

“Hey,” Youngho pulls Jaehyun’s hands away, hugging the boy close. “I’ll come get you whenever you need me to, okay?”

Jaehyun sighs, leaning into Youngho’s chest. Even after a shift at work, Youngho still has that sweet-salty musk Jaehyun loved, “I know, but you’ve been busy lately and I didn’t want to trouble you with something I could’ve handled.”

Youngho isn’t at all satisfied with that, pressing a kiss to Jaehyun’s crown, “I love you, Jaehyun, I’m not going to go home alone when I know you’re drunk off your butt here.”

“I’m not drunk,” Jaehyun grumbles. He pulls himself off Youngho, steadying himself with a palm to Youngho’s chest, “Look, I’m fine now.”

“You didn’t sound fine about an hour ago,” Youngho hums, reaching between them to tug Jaehyun’s toga right. “Of course, I’d come get you.”

Jaehyun has nothing to say to that, especially not when he’d been hallucinating about Youngho for the better part of that nap. “Well,” he resigns, sneaking a finger between Youngho’s button up uniform, just to touch the skin there. “Thank you for coming then.”

“Mmhmm,” Youngho exhales, smiling all too fondly at Jaehyun. “Ready to go home? You can stay over at my place, I don’t have work until three tomorrow.”

The promise excites Jaehyun, and he moves to hold Youngho still by the chin, kissing him sweet. Youngho lets him take control, hands bracketing Jaehyun’s waist when he inches over, spreading himself over Youngho’s hips.

“I don’t think,” Youngho laughs, breathless when Jaehyun begins to leave a trail of kisses down his neck. “Doyoung would appreciate us making out here on his couch.”

“People’ve been doing it all night,” Jaehyun debates. He caresses Youngho’s chest, pushing their hips together, “I’ve missed you.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Youngho holds him still, but Jaehyun knows his hips are Youngho’s weakness. “I would appreciate if we went home right now, where my bed is there waiting for us.”

Jaehyun nods, but he requests first another kiss, moaning into it when Youngho slips in a silver of tongue.

“Alright,” Youngho groans, helping Jaehyun off him hastily. “Let’s get out of here, I’m not spending our first night in a week on Doyoung’s couch, surrounded my half-drunk college seniors.”

Jaehyun sways a little on his feet, but he clings tight to Youngho, not wanting to let him go, “Spend it with me?”

Youngho picks up Jaehyun’s phone that’d been resting on the coffee table, and slips it into his bag. He hooks an arm around Jaehyun’s waist and leads the way to the front door, “If I could, I’d spend every waking minute with you, and you know it.”

“I do,” Jaehyun laughs, lacing his fingers with the hand Youngho has on his hip. “Thank you for coming to get me, I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


	15. dotae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taeyong/doyoung - life!au  
> 1849w

“Time, time, time,” Taeyong mumbles, scurrying across the kitchen to switch the oven off. He opens the oven door to let most of the heat out, grabbing the orange-and-purple oven mitts while he waited.

The cookies smell good, chocolate chips wafting through the air, the smell of it so heavenly that he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. Impatient, he crouches down to take a look at his evening’s masterpiece, cookies with chocolate chips on the left, and plain ones on the right. He was practicing perfecting chocolate chip cookies for his office bake-off tomorrow, and thought to make a few for Doyoung, who hadn’t the preference for chocolate, to Taeyong’s utmost dismay.

He’d prepared some green and purple icing too, still on the fence about decorating the cookies with ghouls and bats to befit them the theme of Halloween.

“Ah,” he winces, recoiling when his arm bumps into the oven door, heat stinging him slightly. Taeyong runs the tap over it, but it doesn’t look to be too terrible of a burn, so he returns to his crouched position on the floor, watching the cookies blankly.

He’s about to try and pull the tray out the second time when the telltale chime of the apartment door’s lock jingles, signaling Doyoung’s return. Cookies forgotten, Taeyong rushes to his feet, excited to show Doyoung his handiwork, but all he catches is a blur rushing past, then the sound of their bedroom door slammed shut.

Taeyong blinks, stunned silent. He shakes his frozen self free, throwing the oven mitts onto the kitchen counter and hurrying out of the kitchen, stumbling his way towards their bedroom.

“Doyoung?” He calls, hand hovering over the door knob. No response comes his way, so he twists it left, pushing the door open carefully. “Doyoung?”

Their bedroom is empty, so Taeyong makes his way to their en suite, where the door is shut tight. Quietly, he presses his ear to the door, heart wrenching when he hears his boyfriend sniffling through heavy breaths, crying but so obviously trying to keep it in.

Taeyong swallows thickly, _What happened? Did something happen at work? At home?_

He knocks on the door, and the sniffling stops at once. It serves to wreck Taeyong even more, knowing how much Doyoung thought he had to keep his emotions in check.

It’d taken seven months out of their three-year long relationship for Doyoung to finally understand that Taeyong _wanted_ to be there for him; that Taeyong _wanted_ to be the shoulder Doyoung cried on, that he wanted to be the first person Doyoung found in tough times, that he wanted Doyoung to know that he’s there for Doyoung, no matter what. It’d pained Taeyong to find Doyoung bottling his feelings, and only through a long argument filled with tears did Doyoung finally understand Taeyong’s sincerity.

“Doyoung,” he says, standing so close to the door that his chest is pressed to it, palm resting against the beech wood. “Doyoung, open the door.”

The tap starts to run, and Taeyong stomps out the worry that threatens to turn into frustration. He knows Doyoung’s just running the water so he wouldn’t be able to hear the younger boy cry.

“Doyoung,” he tries again, firmly. Valiantly, he jiggles the handle, not surprised to find it locked. “Doyoung, talk to me.”

Silence, then a choked out, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not!” Taeyong curses at his impatience. Doyoung never reacted well to anger, not when he could match Taeyong’s temper like a well-cradled flame. He takes a deep breath, not allowing his anxiousness clamber over him, “Doyoung, please – I can hear you. Just tell me what’s going on, what happened?”

“I said it’s nothing,” Doyoung’s voice is hoarse, shaking with every syllable. “Please just go away.”

“‘Go away’?” Taeyong taps the door twice. Doyoung’s never, ever blatantly told him that. Not when he’s pushing to show how much he cared. “Doyoung, you’re scaring me, please – ”

“I just need – ” Taeyong hears him slump against the sink, hands hitting the porcelain. His heart lurches, _What happened?_ “I need some time alone, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Taeyong lungs start to fill with something hazy, and he hates how emotional he gets during times like these, especially when it comes down to anything Doyoung-related. As much as he’s proud of loving Doyoung, Taeyong admits to overreacting when it comes down to the love of his life.

“Open the door,” Taeyong pleads, trying the handle again. His heart hammers wildly as a thousand different scenarios fly through his mind, and all he wants to do is be there for Doyoung. “Please open the door, Doyoung.”

“No, just – ” Doyoung turns the tap off, and Taeyong wishes he’d left it on because without it, the echoes of Doyoung’s breaths are so much clearer. “Just go.”

“I love you,” Taeyong says, reminding Doyoung that he _is_ here. Tears start to form, feeling painfully useless when Doyoung is hurting this badly, and Taeyong lets a few escape, knowing Doyoung won’t see them. “I love you, whatever it is, I love you.”

Doyoung says nothing, but he cries even harder, and Taeyong has half the mind to look for the master key to the bathroom. Though, he knows Doyoung wouldn’t appreciate that at all, so he keeps trying,

“You don’t have to tell me,” he promises, shaking the handle roughly. Taeyong wipes his tears away, and levels his voice, “I just need to know you’re okay, and I want to be there for you, so can you please – _please_ just let me in?”

“I’m fine, I don’t need to be – ”

“But I need it.” He hears Doyoung stifles a sob and Taeyong _hates_ it, “Please just open the door, Doyoung, I need to see you, I need – please, I love you – I can’t just stand out here, okay? Please, just _please_ – ”

The door unlocks.

Taeyong stares at the handle, thinking Doyoung might pull the door open. He waits, but it remains closed, so he gets it together, willing the tears to stop. He might be emotional, but he will never waver in front of Doyoung, not when he wants to be Doyoung’s rock.

Gently, he pushes the door open, greeted with the sight of Doyoung’s head hanging low. He’s seated on the edge of their tub, hands laced tightly together on his lap, knuckles deathly white. His shoulders shake from the sheer amount of effort it’s taking for him not to cry, and that gets Taeyong moving.

He crosses their bathroom to take Doyoung into his arms, closing his eyes to stop his own tears when Doyoung chokes back another sob. Taeyong steps between Doyoung’s legs, holding Doyoung dearly, an arm around Doyoung’s shoulder, other hand in Doyoung’s hair, trying to soothe him.

“It’s okay,” Taeyong mumbles, body numb at the sight of Doyoung so broken. “I’m here, I love you – it’s okay, you’re okay.”

The dam breaks then, and Doyoung’s hands fly to hug Taeyong’s waist, burying his face into Taeyong’s torso. His trembles, crying freely now, in Taeyong’s arms.

“I love you,” Taeyong repeats, unable to think of anything that would make Doyoung feel any better. “I love you, I love you – you’re okay,” he kisses Doyoung’s crown, speaking into his Doyoung’s hair, “I love you, I’m here. You’re okay.”

Doyoung cries, words slipping through his misery, “I – I can’t – I can’t – ”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Taeyong rocks them slowly, trying to get Doyoung to breathe proper. The front of his apron is drenched with tears and the grip Doyoung has on him is suffocating, but Taeyong doesn’t care, “Just – breathe, okay? You don’t have to tell me anything, alright, just breathe.”

Doyoung nods jerkily, collecting himself and then breaking again, pain coming in waves. He cries, dragging Taeyong closer with every painful breath, as if Taeyong were the only thing holding him steady.

Taeyong loses track of how long they stay like that, whispering _You’re okay_ s and _I love you_ s into Doyoung’s hair. He loses all feeling in anything below his hips, leaning so into Doyoung that he fears they might both topple into the bathtub. He loses all curiosity, simply worried for Doyoung, at a loss of what else he can do to help.

Eventually, Doyoung does pull back, sniffling loudly. Taeyong reaches behind him for the box of Kleenex, grabbing a fistful of tissue to wipe Doyoung’s tear-stained cheeks clean. Doyoung closes his eyes and lets Taeyong do the work, hands still busily tight on Taeyong’s hips.

The sight of Doyoung’s red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks courses a fresh wave of worry through Taeyong. He pushes it down, leaning forward to kiss Doyoung’s eyelids tenderly, as if it’d rid the pain. Doyoung bites on his lip, and Taeyong hugs him again, afraid the tears might return.

They don’t, and Doyoung is mumbling into Taeyong’s shirt, “Tomorrow – ” Taeyong pulls them apart to hear the boy better, “I have to go home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says instantly. It was a Friday, and the fact that Doyoung never skipped work makes Taeyong’s anxiousness grow tenfold. His mind asks, _Did someone get hurt? Is everyone okay?_ Instead, he manages, “Do you want me to come with you?”

For a second, Taeyong thinks he’s asked the wrong question, but Doyoung is nodding in the next, resting his cheek against Taeyong’s tummy. He lets out a shuddery breath, and Taeyong can only hope that he hasn’t got to pack anything black for the weekend.

“I love you,” Taeyong whispers. He tilts Doyoung back enough to have the boy look him in the eyes, and Doyoung does, with tears still clinging to his lashes. Taeyong wipes them away with another Kleenex, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Doyoung answers, voice rough and scratchy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t – ” Taeyong shakes his head, “I’ll book the train tickets tonight and we can leave first thing in the morning. I’ll call Taeil and let him know we won’t join him and Youngho for dinner on Saturday, and I’ll tell him we’re going to be out of town so that he’ll know the apartment’s empty. We can stay as long as we need to, don’t – ”

“What about your work?” Doyoung asks, eyes so very clearly hoping Taeyong dismiss it. “Your baking?”

So he does, “Yuta can cover for me, and we can eat the cookies on the trip there.” He hesitates, caressing Doyoung’s cheek, “You don’t have to tell me anything now, but will you when you’re ready?”

Doyoung nods, pulling Taeyong in and effectively ending their conversation. He doesn’t crack any jokes, doesn’t try to make the mood better, but he does stand there, feet on a fluffy bathroom mat, holding Doyoung close, being _here_. Belated relief floods Taeyong’s veins, and he hugs Doyoung back, returning to his whispers of _I love you_ s and _It’s okay_ s.

Because it will be okay, whatever it is, as long as Doyoung knows that Taeyong will never leave. That Taeyong will always be here, and that he’ll always _want_ to be here.

It’ll be okay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments appreciated! ;;


	16. dotae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doyoung/taeyong - parents!au  
> 2015w

“I want teeth!”

Doyoung, for a moment, thinks he hears wrongly. He stops from where he’s adjusting Donghyuck’s Slytherin robes, complete with emerald lining and the Hogwarts crest – Taeyong refuses to tell him how much he’d spent customizing this just for their four-year-old’s Halloween costume.

“Teeth!” Donghyuck repeats, when Doyoung fails to acknowledge him. “I want teeth, give me teeth!”

Doyoung stares at where Donghyuck is missing a front tooth, “Hyuck – ”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, shrugging Doyoung hands off his shoulders. He tramples the distance between them and reaches forward to tap with a grubby little finger at the fake fangs Doyoung has on.

Again, “I want teeth!”

Doyoung understands it then, immediately shaking his head, “No, no, these are _plastic_ – ” he enunciates the way Taeyong does, “ – and they’re for grown-ups.”

“I know they’re _plastic_ ,” Donghyuck scoffs, as if he were offended Doyoung’d thought so little of him. Doyoung tries not to wrangle the small boy by the shoulders; he’d been dressing Donghyuck for a full twenty minutes and Taeyong’d left him to his own devices, getting his own costume ready. Youngho and Taeil are scheduled to be by with Minhyung in fifteen minutes and Doyoung just wants to shed the vampire costume and climb into bed.

Donghyuck, however, has other intentions, “I want teeth too.”

“You can’t,” Doyoung sighs. He conjures a white lie, “These teeth are dangerous, okay? They’re filled with poison!”

Donghyuck glares at him, “Then why are _you_ wearing them?”

“I’m a vampire,” Doyoung doesn’t skip a beat. “I’m impervious to poison.”

“Papa says you shouldn’t use big words just because you want to confuse me,” Donghyuck says haughtily. Doyoung makes a mental note to ask Taeyong exactly _what_ he’s teaching their four-year-old. Seeing Doyoung’s defenses lowered, Donghyuck reaches to try and yank the fangs straight from Doyoung’s mouth with a loud battle cry, “Teeth!”

Doyoung stands from where he’d been kneeling to match Donghyuck’s height, easily rendering Donghyuck’s plans to dust. The boy starts to whine incessantly, and Doyoung sighs murderously, ready to sternly tell Donghyuck to knock it off when an angel quite literally enters the room,

“Oh, don’t be a meanie on Halloween,” Taeyong hums, flitting to Doyoung’s side daintily. He has on a pair of wings and a wand to match, cheeks dusted with glitter and lips shining with gloss. “Let him have the spare ones for now, I’m sure he’ll want to take them off the moment he gets his first candy bar.”

Doyoung stalks grumpily over to the dresser to pull the spare pair of fangs from its plastic. He cleans it with a Kleenex before handing it to Donghyuck, whose smile is so devilishly smug, that he looks absolutely perfect in those Slytherin robes.

“Papa loves _me_ more,” Donghyuck taunts, running towards Taeyong before Doyoung can get another word into it

It’s been something Donghyuck’s fond of lately, telling Doyoung that Taeyong loved him more, a game of sorts. As much as Doyoung would not like to let their four-year-old have that much power over him, he’s got to admit that it still makes him a little unnecessarily sad whenever Donghyuck yells it in his face.

“Thank you, Papa,” Donghyuck coos, looking like a mirror image of Taeyong when he did. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Taeyong laughs, and he sends Donghyuck to get the plastic pumpkin bucket from his room, readying them for a night of trick-or-treating. When Donghyuck scurries away, Taeyong looks back to where Doyoung is staring at the both of them, and he bursts into laughter.

“What?” Doyoung frowns, knowing fully well _what_.

“Doyoung,” he laughs, crossing the room with the lightest of steps, grinning madly. “Don’t tell me you’re still getting upset whenever Hyuck says I love him more than I do you?”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, “It wouldn’t hurt for you to say that it isn’t entirely true.”

Taeyong pretends to think, “Wouldn’t that make me a bad father?”

“Would it make you a bad husband?” Doyoung challenges, snaking an arm around Taeyong’s waist and pulling them flush.

“I’m an excellent husband,” Taeyong smirks, kissing Doyoung chaste to prove the point. He giggles when Doyoung chases for more, “I have lip gloss on.”

“Don’t care,” Doyoung mumbles, stealing Taeyong’s lips again.

Taeyong sighs, coiling his arms around Doyoung’s neck, “Your lips are going to get all glittery.”

“That’ll just make me more like a vampire,” Doyoung shrugs, smiling down at Taeyong. “Glitter, and all that good stuff.”

Taeyong allows for more kisses until Doyoung’s breaths away from pushing Taeyong on to their bed and rendering not safe for general audiences (read: their four-year-old), breaking them apart. He hides his face in Doyoung’s shoulder anyway, both breathing heavily as they take the minute to come down from the high.

Doyoung likes it when they have time like this to themselves, and he appreciates it so much more after they’d adopted Donghyuck. He loves how even just kisses convey the words they want to say and the time they want to spend together. It makes it all the more special, and Doyoung thinks he’s the luckiest person in the world for it to be Taeyong he’s sharing these kisses with.

“What’re you supposed to be, exactly?” Doyoung asks, reaching up to fix Taeyong’s mussed up hair. He takes another kiss before Taeyong can protest.

“A fairy,” Taeyong wiggles to make his wings flutter. He beams, “Am I cute?”

Doyoung nods seriously, “You’re always cute.”

Taeyong starts to speak (probably to ask Doyoung to _get real_ ), but the doorbell rings, and they share a quick kiss before hurrying down to the landing.

Donghyuck is already there, jumping up and down excitedly as he watches Doyoung and Taeyong trades kisses coming down the stairs, like a pair of teenagers on their way to prom.

“Papa, hurry! I want to show Minhyung my fancy teeth!”

“Alright, alright,” Taeyong laughs, releasing Doyoung’s waist to open the door. He reveals Taeil dressed in a yellow shirt and overalls (a Minion, clearly), hand-in-hand with Minhyung beside him in a snazzy blue suit and a red bow (a miniature Detective Conan).

“Where’s – ”

“TRICK-OR-TREAT!” Youngho yells, jumping from behind the door all decked out in a wig and face-paint and a very obviously rented out costume of Edward Scissorhands.

It takes Donghyuck five seconds to register the array of (fake) knives and scissors that’ve replaced Youngho’s ten fingers, and he breaks down _instantly._ He shrieks, screaming for dear life as he bolts away from the door and back into the house, forgoing Taeyong’s open arms and racing straight towards Doyoung. Doyoung drops to his knees immediately, collecting a weeping Donghyuck in his arms.

“Well,” Taeyong clears his throat, turning to glare at Youngho. “Good evening to you too.”

Youngho’s usual harmlessness emanates from behind his terrifying costume, “Oh crap – I didn’t mean to scare him!”

“He did,” Minhyung tattletales, not making any eye-contact with his own dad. He hides close to Taeil, “He scared me too.”

Youngho pouts, “I didn’t – ”

“Yes, he did,” Taeil interjects, swatting Youngho’s shoulder. “He’s been planning on scaring children all day.”

“But I – ”

Doyoung ignores Youngho’s attempt at trying to defend himself, and focused on the crying boy in his arms. He picks Donghyuck up and walks slowly over to Youngho and his ridiculous costume, speaking clearly, “Sweets, look – ”

Doyoung reaches to touch one of the blades on Youngho’s hands, very obviously plastic now that they’re standing just three feet apart, but Donghyuck lets out an ear-splitting shriek, hitting Doyoung’s hand away from Youngho.

“No!” He cries, thrashing in Doyoung’s arms to have Doyoung move further away. Doyoung stumbles backwards, and Taeyong steadies him with a hand to his back. Donghyuck sobs, “You’ll get _hurt_! Don’t touch him!” To Youngho, he screams, “Don’t hurt my dad!”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Doyoung says softly, heart growing ten times when he hears Donghyuck cry for him. He runs a hand across Donghyuck’s face to wipe the tears and sweat away, “It’s Uncle Youngho, Hyuck – the uncle that brings you to the arcade and buys you gifts whenever he goes on trips? He’s just in a costume, sweets, it’s Uncle Youngho under there.”

Donghyuck seems to relax at that, but he averts his eyes from Youngho, still shaking his head.

Youngho deflates, and Taeil sighs, “I told you to go with the Tony the Tiger costume.” Youngho looks at both kids avoiding him entirely, “You’re going to be scaring children all night, babe.”

“But I bet Jaehyun I could be scarier than he was,” Youngho whines, very definitely out of character. “He’s going to be scary too.”

“Jaehyun isn’t going as someone six-foot-something with knives sticking out of their arms,” Taeyong points out, stepping close to check on Donghyuck, ignoring Youngho’s whines. Softly, he asks, “Do you still want to go trick-or-treating, Hyuckie?”

Donghyuck nods, but he makes no move to release the death grip he has around Doyoung’s neck.

“Minhyung is here,” Taeyong says, combing Donghyuck’s hair from his eyes. “Do you want to walk with him so that you can trick-or-treat together?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “Want to stay here.”

Doyoung trades a confused look with Taeyong, “Is there – a reason why, sweets?”

“It’s safer up here,” Donghyuck reasons, and Doyoung bites on his lip to keep from laughing. To Doyoung, he gripes, “And you almost got _hurt_. I need to stay here.”

“I’ll protect him,” Taeyong says, patting Donghyuck on the back. “I’ll protect him, okay? You can have fun trick-or-treating with Minhyung since they came all the way down here for us, right?”

Donghyuck is reluctant, but he eventually lets Doyoung go, and allows himself to be on the ground again. Minhyung extends an outstretched hand and Donghyuck takes it, both of them scurrying out the door without sparing Youngho another look.

“This is saddening,” Doyoung hears Youngho grumble as they make their way down the pavement, following Donghyuck and Minhyung down the street. “I put so much effort into this, I even got shoes to match!”

“I know, baby,” he hears Taeil sigh. “Better luck next year, okay?”

Doyoung watches with a smile as they stop by the first house, Taeil and Youngho accompanying Minhyung and Donghyuck out to the door while they stayed by the gate.

“Well, that was sweet, wasn’t it?”

Doyoung turns his attention back to Taeyong standing before him, with a cheeky smile and a knowing look. He blinks, “What?”

“The way Hyuck ran to you,” Taeyong takes Doyoung’s hand in his. “And how he wanted to protect you from Youngho, of all people.”

“He was just scared,” Doyoung says, but his heart is so full to the brim of feeling _loved_ that he can’t stop himself from smiling either. “But yeah – it was sweet.”

Taeyong laughs, “I should be the one asking you right now if you loved me more than Donghyuck, shouldn’t I?”

Doyoung shakes his head, “It’ll always be you.”

If the street weren’t so oddly silent, Doyoung would’ve laughed at the way Taeyong’s jaw dropped. His eyes double their size, which is a feat on its own, “What?”

“I love you most,” Doyoung says, as sincerely as he can in the middle of a sidewalk on the night of Halloween. “I love Donghyuck, but you’re – you’re the love of my life. I’ll always love you most, Taeyong.”

“Great,” Taeyong sniffs, lips trembling. He looks to the dark sky, “Now I feel like – because you asked me earlier and I – and I said – ”

“And you love me,” Doyoung finishes for him. “You love me, and I know it.”

“I do,” Taeyong nods, searching Doyoung’s eyes. “I love you.”

“I know,” Doyoung kisses him to rid the guilt, and Taeyong accepts it, holding him close. He smiles into the kiss, and laughs when Taeyong does too, just so stupidly _happy_ to be this in love.

And in that moment, with Taeyong clinging on to him so tightly, Doyoung knows that Taeyong will forever be the only person he’ll want to share these moments with.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end of 2018's halloween shorts :,)
> 
> i hope you enjoyed these! let me know which ones were your favorites! 
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated ;;


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